Craving

the phantom juice moistens my lips and drips down my chin

threatening the white shirt below

refreshing my body 

filling my spirit 

who the fuck do I think I am to want this life?

let alone to lust after it 

to stalk it with curiosity, as it preys on me

to coo the angry growl of my stomach, insisting on the unfamiliar 

to feel the warm glow in my mouth as it waters and prepares for the feast ahead 

today I am certain I cannot live without it

so it will not slip away from me

I latch on, my teeth sinking deeply into its potential 

I can feel it slip into my mouth becoming me 

but it tastes like blood

drawn from the lip below