Infection

In the resonating silence,
Deafening my ears...
Roars of distillment, not a whisper from your lips.
You took me to this resting place,
You asked me to bleed for you,
To cry to you,
To give to you my all.

You asked of me "Do you have faith?"
And I told you forever.
You brought me here,
A lamb following blindly
Into the cool calm insanity of your mind,
Your seeping madness...
And here I reside.

You asked me "Do you love me?"
I told you forever.
You whispered your
Everlasting kiss upon my ears
Lulling me into a pleasant poisonous sedation of the mind...
And I followed...
Like a lamb to the slaughter,
I followed blindly,
And you lead with the sweet seductive pleasures,
The hooks within my flesh, so deep...

You asked me then, "Would you hurt for me?"
I told you forever.
Pulling upon the steel within my flesh,
Thousands of infections spread forth from your lips,
Kissing me sweetly to share the infestation....
And I fed hungrily.

You asked me then, "Will you give me your all?"
I told you forever.
Like a leech wrapped in pretty paper,
You fed from me...
Replacing my everything with your infection,
Mindless indulgence
And I reveled in the pleasures of letting go,
Even as I lie dying....
I drank in the purification of your disease.

And then you asked me nothing...

The angel's breath of a whisper that you once lavished upon my ears was gone...

I knew nothing of your voice, your reason, you mind, your fingertips...

And you were gone.

I waited for your voice...your comfort...
For you to wake me from this deepened slumber,
Of my death, from my rot.

But here you left me, no words,
No soft offerings from your pained lips...
No sweet touches from your embrace...
The only thing you had left behind,
Was your disease...
And the growing coldness within.

In the resonating silence,
Deafening my ears...
Roars of distillment, not a whisper from your lips.
You took me to this resting place,
You asked me to bleed for you,
To cry to you,
To give to you my all.

From this sickness, I rose...
A monster within my own pretty flesh.
The thousands of little infestations,
I have mutated into my own infection
For a world that is ripe for the sowing,
With fresh turned earth and soft minds.

For now, I spread my own infection...

And even now, it crawls within the deepest crevises of the soul and mind,
Anchoring with tiny splintered legs to latch unto it's victims.

Even now, I whisper my infections unto you...

~Nehmahati Kerosna (Kala)

Reviews

[Shugotenshi1692]

it is superb. fantastically written!

[Yemaya Theresa]

Its reads like a Gothic Vampire Novel. Which is very cool, but I know their is a deeper meaning to it. Love, Passion is like a disease.

I really like this line;

And I reveled in the pleasures of letting go,
Even as I lie dying....
I drank in the purification of your disease.

You are very eloquent writer.

[Bruce Bray]

very nice..
writer gives of herself to another..
innocently i might add..
i love the demarcation showing when he stopped responding..
and then that part of her dies..
and she becomes infested, almost like being in a grave and becoming infested with worms..
and the beauty is..
the manifestation that she becomes..
the monster..
perhaps losing a piece of her inside..
that's replaced by something else.

[Specialk]

short and sweet-"I love this" I think the best writing is that which makes you think ,feel and inspire, and I think you did all of that with this piece in my opinion; it's personal and intimate so its more a part of a representation of who you are.