The Art in Death

‘Take us to Loveblood road, that’s where we need to go.'
I tell the cabdriver. He stares out of the window.
My woman and I sit in the back,
We are kissing, clasping each other close,
Exchanging cool breaths out of our noses,

‘Your eyes shine bright.’ I hush to my beauty-bride.
‘They glitter like the raindrops that reflect the moonlight.’
She kisses my blue cheek,
And slides her warm and ripe hand down on to,
My stiff crotch that holds in my thick glue.

Out of her bold, blazing lips, stained with wine of red,
She let out a breath that flatters me, and then she says
‘Soon, the whole night will be ours.’
I laugh, and I whisper into her ear:
‘We will have all the time beneath the stars.’
But I wish for more.

I gaze out of the glass and see the raindrops fall.
Each is a tear for me, from the spirits that call.
I turn and I smile at my girl,
And think of arriving at my large abode.
While the driver keeps staring out at the road.

.

My beauty-bride giggles and slips her stare from mine.
I hush, ‘My girl, have you drunk a sip too much wine?’
She speaks with words of bubbles, ‘No, I’m fine.
Soon, you’ll have me alone in your bed.’
I laugh, ‘And not a moment we should dread.’

The cab slows down as we entered my cul-de-sac.
We pass twelve empty houses, each of which are mine.
I tell my beauty-bride, ‘We’re here.’
The driver turns and says, ‘That will be a–
I say, ‘Here’s fifty, you’ve brought us fast.’

We swing open the doors and skip onto the path.
We goodbye the cab driver. He does not wave back.
My beauty-bride frowns, weeps as she asks,
‘Do you think he’s in a rush?’
‘Perhaps. He may have some time to push.’

I unlock the iron gate that guards my house.
I hush, ‘Hurry, but be as quiet as you can.
Once we are inside, you can make all the noise that you like,
Nobody there will hear us,
We’ll have no need to make this much fuss.’

She hurries through the gate and skips up to my house.
As she gallops on, I can’t help but ask, 
‘If my beauty-bride is this much a woman–
The tight curving figure, she keeps– 
Why do all of you spirits still weep?’

We meet at the door of my well-earned, huge, manor.
Before I unlock it, she clings tight on to me,
And asks, ‘Why are you this kind to me?’
My crotch stiffens, as I speak,
‘You’re the most perfect woman I’ve ever seen.’

‘You’ve opened my eyes to an art so divine, that,
There’s no denying, you were born to be all mine.
I promise this night is not the end,
Of our time together. 
This is the beginning of forever.’
And thus, she is my beauty-bride.

She kisses my lips, and I kiss her back.
Our tongues twist in the dripping sack.
My lubricant mouth makes her lips slide
From my face, and down to my side.
Like a surprise, she vomits onto my lap.

The liquid blasts out of her mouth.
As it does, it releases a smell,
Of rich red wine, that only I could buy,
To be drank by my new beauty-bride,
So I could bring her back to my house.

‘Oh dear,’ I hush, ‘I think I was right.
I think you’ve drank two sips too much wine!’
As I speak, she continues to be sick.
The rain showers down on to her long hair,
And it carries the stench of wine in the air.

‘Shut up!’ She said, with lips of red.
‘Let’s hurry up and get in your bed.’
She springs up and walks into my house.
As long as she’s eager, I do not care,
About the smell of wine-sick breath in the air.

I follow her in, and then lock my front door –
Not that I need to, this street is secure.
‘Your decorations are amazing!’
My girl says on my grand staircase.
I hush, ‘I’m so glad you find it so pleasing.’

She stumbles up my red-carpet stair case.
At the top, she notices the face,
That I hung up on to the opposite wall.
She says. ‘Can you tell me what that is?’
I walked to her and gave her kiss.

And hush, ‘It’s just an ornament I have,
It’s been up there for a very long time.’
But I do not tell her, once upon a time,
When I hated my sweet ex-wife,
I cut off her head with kitchen knife.

But it was too hard to just forget our old life,
I was too pleased that I won in our strife.
So I kept her face as a trophy on my wall,
So she could see all of the women that I brought home.
She’d be so jealous of my beauty-bride.

My beauty-bride guides me up my stairs,
She asks, ‘Should I go right or left?’
I hush, ‘Whichever way you think is the best,
I have eight bedrooms, and each is mine,
All that matters is that you have a fun time.’
All that matters is my beauty-bride.

She takes my hand and brings me to the left,
This must be the way she thought fits her best.
She says, ‘I love your paintings, where did you get them?’
I reply, ‘I didn’t buy them, I painted all of them.’
She says, ‘I’m amazed, you’ve got so much skill!’
I reply, ‘Well, it is how I pay my bills.’

‘Hurry, you need to pick a room fast,
So we can spend this night as if it’s our last.’
She says, ‘I don’t think we should rush,
If you want me quicker, you need to tease me.’
I hush, ‘I just us want us to move like we’re free.’

She barges through the next door and jumps on the bed,
And says, ‘I forgot to mention about my boyfriend,’
I hush, ‘I don’t see why that’s a problem,
As long as you’re here, I don’t care about him.
Just as long as you don’t.’

We sit on my bed and kiss. Her red lips are so soft.
She eagerly strokes my stiffening crotch,
As I squeeze her warm and ripe breasts.
They’re big enough for more than my hand to fit.
Her skill weakens me to vulnerability.

She reaches into my crotch and pumps me hard,
I think it is fair to return it to her.
My excitement takes over as the moment draws nearer,
I can’t help but press my hands on shoulders,
And I throw her back, on to my bed.

She shares the same excitement, and she throws off her clothes.
I think about all of the male bodies she knows.
The art of sex is her professional skill,
Just as the ability to paint is mine.
We begin our loving, our bodies entwined.

For a girl who claims she needs to be teased,
She is more eager than me to be pleased.
She takes hold of my weapon presses it against,
What I’ve been waiting for, my selfish goal.
My beauty-bride is such a perfect whore.

I impatiently dip my weapon into her,
And squeeze my hands on the side of her. 
I let go of myself and feel my breath fly,
My body is loose, and all I can see,
Is the perfection of my beauty-bride’s body,

Though I am enjoying the passion, it has no need to last.
I want to get to my true intentions fast.
I don’t care of her judgement of me,
Because her life is almost over.

I pound her hard as my weapon tenses up,
And from its stem, the orgasm fills up.
Ready to fill her with juice, like a cup.

I’m almost there, and so I pressed my hands,
Around her neck, and I squeeze her glands.
She splutters as the air clogs up in her throat.
I continue ramming as I’m almost there.
Her eyes are wide open, but I don’t care.

Her face turns to pink, and then turns to red.
Then it shades white when she’s almost dead.
She tightens up, but I continue to severe,
And I fire my thick glue inside of her.
So she will be bonded with me forever.

I am finished, and so is she.
I get up and gaze at my beauty-bride’s body.
I look out of the window.
I see that the rain has become snow.

I open the window and let the breeze flow inside,
So that the snow can cover my beauty-bride.
From under the bed, I take my paints out to see –
It was my girl that chose her destiny. –

The colours that suit her sleeping body,
So I can paint her, for the entire world to see.
But her existing form, I’m going to freeze,
And keep her body all for me.

I bring out my easel, and stand it up.
My thick glue slides out of its cup.
I begin drawing with pencil, and sketch all of her form.
This is the technique that I consider my norm.

Along with all of the people I paint,
It’s just what I consider their fate.
The many pictures of dead people I’ve made,
All appear to be alive, as my façade. 

I couldn’t let my beautiful beauty-bride’s form,
Get ruined and wrinkled when she grows old.
I need her with me in her ripest form forever,
And I and her spirit will dine together.

With mixed colours, I paint her long, auburn hair,
And then her skin, which had now become fair.
I shade the darkness under her breast,
To present the size that suited her best.

I copy her eyes; more brown than the earth,
And then her nose that is of perfect girth.
I dip my brush into the ripest red,
And paint her lips, out of which she once said,

‘I’ve never known a man as handsome as you,’
As we searched a cab. As we flew,
She said, ‘I don’t usually trust men from the city,’
Her voice naturally sang with a unique melody.

She said, ‘I wouldn’t mind staying with you for the night.’
Because of my charm that rid her of fright.
She said, ‘I need somebody to keep me safe,’
And in her, I installed some faith.

But now I’ve set my beauty-bride free.
I know, in some way, she will thank me.
Because I know, inside, she was a troubled girl,
And I have now set her spirit free into the world.
But I keep her body here, as a gift, for everyone to see.