Wild Roses

035

Wild Roses

If I should die before the dawn I want wild roses around my door.
If I should die at my beloved’s hand I want wild roses to grow on my grave.

I’ve seen you before in the neon orange glow staining your image like blood with your sanguine hair you are my one and only wild rose.
I see the red in your demon eyes you see the fever in my rotted soul.
Listening and watching the neon dance of the drunk, drugged people marching by, on their suicide dance towards each of their bitter demise.
But you and I our deeds drenched in blood. We have been through that.
We met and snorted drugs and fucked in the wet alley, listening to the rain a symphony of pain to our broken minds and sinful needs.

We want some other fair game; some other death to amuse our bored ends.
The first one I brought the hammer down and broke her skull; and you knew it was right as you licked the blood clean off my face my sanguine queen.
With kisses we defiled her body and cut her skin with the tattoos on to make the lampshades – a light to fuck on and remind us of our supremacy over the sheep, the flock we defiled so easily.
The second a John, who came down for a blow, you removed his cock with a vengeful bite as I strangled the life from his bug-eyed corpse. No need for skin but teeth with a filling of gold was what was gleaned.
The third a queer who wanted some dope with my hammer I smashed his face, another fag out of the human race, we ate his liver before disposing of his body down a well that no one knew of now.
The fourth and fifth were children, we raped and fucked them their innocence, that was a trinket in the blinded eye of society, which we sought to hate.
The rest I do not remember just a wave of blood and sex and death, wave after wave of that blood and sin and so much death.

But love is a viper with a twisted tail.
I saw that look of betrayal my love has for me.
Read it in the necromantic trails of past victims. She will bury me and plant wild roses to seed.
But what will it be the police, gun, dagger, or will she poison and bludgeon me when I dare to sleep?
But still her pussy tastes sweet as that is a hold dear more than death to me.
I wait and hunger and hunger and wait the wasting game we will play. My viper, my sanguine queen will she stop this pain and bury me and allow me the roses on my grave? Again she made me think:
If I should die before the dawn I want wild roses around my door.
If I should die at my beloved’s hand I want wild roses to grow on my grave.

The sky is dead no stars dare to shine tonight, the darkness sweating on our skins as we lay again in some forgotten city alley.
Our love is spent my seed eaten by her soiled greed.
The pimp that tried to sell me a deal for my unholy queen is dead; his throat a mess as the vampire kisses both me and death took from his neck. His trinket is worthless some speed and coke and hardly any money. I took the blade from his corpse and went to seal the fate of my queen but to no avail as the needle full of poison sank into my vein, I felt the darkness steal upon me.
Last breath I bid my red-haired Queen, my love, my truth to stand and listen to a forgotten last breath. She closed in and listened to my declaration as I wept my eulogy:

If I should die before the dawn I want wild roses around my door.
If I should die at my beloved’s hand I want wild roses to grow on my grave.

But would she listen to the bequest as I leaned around and stabbed her in the back breaking skin and burying blade deep into her lungs. Her rattling breath came out from frothing blood. And as we both died in each other arms I wondered who would plant the red roses on my grave?

If I should die before the dawn I want wild roses around my door.
If I should die at my beloved’s hand I want wild roses to grow on my grave.

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