Werewolves to Vomit

I see the remains of the purge; 

my vomit of sweet tenderloins.

When first tasted my dark smile gleamed 

in the fleshly juices;

sponged deep in the steaming liquids

that poured gently through my gullet.

It was a sweet and vile accident

that proned me toward the sultry scent. 

After succumbing to the brittle allure

I was rescued from the hidden poison,

Yet its first attraction lingers still;

hidden in my bones from birth.

I swore I'd never come back.

Yet I am dogged to return. 

to seep in the bile soaked pleasure.

My stomach saw it's true form

and threw from its depths 

the blubbered infection;

It shrieked songs I could not hear

perjured my soul in it's revelry.

Yet,

Yet my hunger remains.

glimpse of the subtle curve,

chunks chopped,

insistently incisored.

Smell and sound

gush forth and dance around my nostrils

and I am burnt;

crisp, crackling.

I cannot return to my wallow

though I long for it's temporal embrace.

I lust over my vomit

but I cannot again eat. 

I shouldn't. 

Since my tongue could taste I have hungered

and even after so long a time,

I see the rotted, corrupt sinews;

everything I was;

dead, bleeding. 

I see the drudges of it's evil;

and yet I still seek its photographs;

it's lying love letters;

hear its voice sound my name

and I thirst.

I must resist. 

I must hold pure. 

but sometimes,

sometimes

I am 

so

desperately

hungry.