Clotting the Vacant Store-Guttural Secrete

A gaze into nothing Eyes glazed over black Hollow viewing of expiration flirts nuisance Beaten to no end, bound beyond something uncomfortable Circulation to limbs constricted Purple is a good color on you... Clever blade slid across unruffled cheekbone Tilted and rested underneath optic cavern Oculus extruded one by one Mouth compacted so screams are nothing more Than soundless, make up smearing tears Dripping along soft pastel skin A vacant stare in need of attention Ungentle hand grips your face Quarter sized shards of glass goaded into hollow sockets An empty gaze, sunken glare Clotting the vacant stare... Nose to nose, intaking fearful scent Admiring rancid reflection from your new found orbs Someone enjoys being their own audience Continuing to stare into her scintillated gaze Hands wrap around neck, crushing esophagous You can tell many things about a person By looking into their eyes He could see in hers, she was ready to die... Collapsed throat, air choked Before your life fades, The last thing you see is nothing...