By: Aneesha Roy

The thirst for life runs amok,
My hungry loins call forth
That bloody pulsating thrust
That fills through and bursts,
Deep, deep inside where no stories lie,
Just darkness and smoke and
fog and obscurity,
moist and dim and black,
That nameless swirling tide
That ripples and falls like
Endless rapids,
A torrent of pale flesh,
Devoid of warmth, devoid of beauty…
Guilty she! Shallow she!
Needy, powerless, devouring, hungry..
I am She.