She Is The Sickness

Name says it all

meth-mouth rotten tooth shaved with a rusty blade
bitter blood decay grinding bone grafted by tainted spade.

crimson candy taste of death, swallowed shards of glass till
no epiglottal flesh was left, pimple pussing on his oozing facial cleft.

whistling whispers spill from his throat stoma sucking
through his sticky dried mucus mote.

scraping gonorrhea never hurt like this before; throbbing emblazoned 
seeping from his orange-green dripping sores. 

she licked his wound haunting never-more, regurgitating
ejected sputum sucked from his gaping sebaceous pores.

the piss was still flowing through a reused surgical hose, the foul 
brown liquid filling slowly though his wounds were drying closed

bruised and beaten in every way, a few swollen remnants
of his testes carved up on the tray. 

she snatched them up, chewing pop, pop, pop; the stale semen spurting
from her lips with a drip, drip, drop. 

content with her supper she packed his black toe clippings in a jar
the smell of dying flesh wafting with the blood crusted scent of gar.