This is the last time you will ever kiss with human lips
The only warmth you feel will be another’s blood
Hunger becomes your destiny
Shadows scatter off the walls
Filled with existential emptiness
Staring back at us
Through a cracked pane
Of shattered glass
It’s the threat to your neck that draws you to them
An indifference to your own humanity that makes their gift appealing
To make food of a human is to become a god
To make food of a god is to become human
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