More Gore

In the mood for gore
And not yet satisfied
He searches for his fill

Splashes of life
Soak his soil-crusted shirt
Red gobbets paint dribbles on his chin

The fury gone, he plucks sightless eyes
To pop betwixt his teeth
The grape-like texture rolling on his tongue

A low moaning breath catches his ear
Peering closely into each bloody face
He feels the escaping warm of one

Silently he waits, no sound he makes
His hovering teeth inches from skin
Wait 'till eyes twitch slowly open

The gurgling scream cut short
With a crunching bite to the throat
Flailing limbs pound a rythym against his chest

He ponders the taste of tongues uncooked and salted
Missing fire-touched food
Clotting blood no longer like mulled wine

Sighing with forced breath,he strips fleshy fingers
And picks nails from between his teeth
Bloated... He wishes that he could see himself in the mirror