The Blood
P.Light
The Blood runs slowly down the skin.
Like all the tears I have never shed, Oily slowly moving.
Why does it do that? Know why does it fascinate me so?
Gouging gushing, running down, my lips open slightly to lick,
to, can it be? To taste??
Why does it smell like iron and why do I simply stand and watch it as it pours?
Freely like oil gushing, Mankind's wealth,
The blood of the lamb? I give to you my blood the sign of eternal life?
What fascinates me so that I but stand and watch...
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