When I was young I slept in a bed not far from the graveyard,
nor far from the sea;
where I was fed fish lovingly, but my true nourishment came from the dead.
One fearsome morning I went to feast
sucking on my parents bit by bit
chewing them to the bones, gnawing on these
their sweet marrow delighting me again and again.
The afternoon brought forth words
that barrowed into the ears of the faithful
hollow God, lay your penance upon me;
holy fire, burn forlorn.
My sister and brothers, their flesh so much younger and sweet
I bagged labelled and dated them;
but they were that enticing that
my deep freeze remained full for a time unexpectedly brief.
The evening tide left the words creepy and naked
with your footprints in the sand
this communion, remained in thought only,
for the sake of the dead alone.
My love for the taste of flesh failed to relent
as I supped upon my lovers and their children
and my apparent lack of friends was a simple case
when I devoured them seeking their death as belated.
For the sake of my ferocious gluttonous bent
the dark bought forth a new language
dwelling alone amongst it’s echoes I am
with the faithful now safely digested.