The Necrotizing Narcissist

Within its cage, my heart beats, as our victim’s breast reeks and splits,
Without sympathy we view our living picture, and the wounds spread.
My Dyer-Bolique smirks, lovely eyes awash with icy disdain,
The protagonist, hero in his own mind, grimaces as his lip peels,
Pulses heave on the tide of cowardice, his teeth bared through locked jaw.
Beginnings of a rare satisfaction tremble through me and call to him.

Within our souls our ecstatic spirits quell with our soiled lusts,
Without relief our prey squeals against the trappings of the organism.
My Dyer-Bolique glares into the swamps of my being, fixated.
The protagonist gurgles as the invisible ants flay him alive.
Pulses rip my insides in an explosive bonding with my missing piece,
Beginnings of a tsunami building within as we watch his skinned demise.

Within our chasm, predators feed prey to Beelzebub’s furnace.
Without constraint, without social performance, without care,
My Dyer-Bolique flays the satin cloth from my aching body,
The protagonist of MY story carries his Belle from their lair.
Pulses electrify my long-suffering form, throbbing need for him,
Beginnings of a tasteless covalence, as he fills me beyond comprehension.

Suffering peaks,
Satisfaction fulfilled,
Twin forms becoming one,
The Merging of bodily Mayhem.