Fire/Warfest/Yielding

Fire
in veins
flaming heat,
flaring almost
to boiling point, shuddering breathlessness.
Flesh sears at the slightest smouldering touch
trembling, yielding
to a Kiss
of sweet
lips.

~~~

Two Cinquains.

Carnage
assaults the eyes.
All carrion, Crows gorge
at Satan’s festering fleshfeast
picnic.

~~~~

Weary,
yielding slowly
the night closes my eyes,
leaden lids fall soft, inviting
a dream.