Mark R Slaughter (1957)

Blood is but a trickle thro’ her veins;
A tear – but only that it feigns
A look of sorrow; the sigh, she had to borrow;
To know, in acting hurt she all but reigns!

A perk of siren head to draw him in;
He melts – a waning from within.
Her clever snare: he marries with her hair.
But now the kiss - a taste of her cuisine!

She in torsion paints a torrid tale -
See her callous grin upon his wail!
- Be the torture, swallow down the pain -
His burden gone, no life must he sustain.



Revenge on Man! Her loss of trust had
Wrought an evil whored in lust:
The crafted vintage e’re the thrust
Behind her ill champagne.



Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010










< br>














































< br>



Blood of lust
Lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
Lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
Lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
Lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
Lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
Blood drips