* Note: This is my first time sharing my writing. I'd be happy to share more if anybody happens to be interested.


Dirt cradle once enveloped;
hands apologetic,
Dig skin-singed image from bone shell-
A private Hell.

Blood box,
filth cradle
sits quiet and eroded;
Like Grave Master's song
so jaded,
Empty,
Corroded.

Toxic hands rush upon this body;
so swiftly they travel
While man whistles,
dreams of thistles
These hands won't touch.

With body bloated,
luke-warm,
salted,
Hungry fingertips feed starving tongue
And welcome body tamper,
luscious conviction.

Thank you for the compliment, I will be writing more.

Nice poem. You are pretty good with words. Does it have a title?

Thank you, and it is called Body Tamper. I went ahead and sent you another poem.

Oh! Duh! That is the title of the topic. Whoops! Thanks! I enjoy reading poetry.