The Black Dahlia Murder

dear diary, tonight will be our last
my hands are itching for razors
my angel, this knife shall carve thee wings
consumed by sickness, i ache to see your blood
the hour approaches when i shall lay a nest inside of you
sliced open i lay waste to my desires
sweet entrails are scooped onto the tile
and in my dreams i hold your head beneath the waves
after you've died, i kiss the nape of your porcelain neck
you enter me in death's perpetual embrace
skin tightens in the throes of lust
and in my dreams i cut your mouth from ear to ear
dissecting your angelic body in the quiet of your room
how splendidly i carve into your tender heart
shuddering between the sheets
for weeks i've watched you, perched above your sleeping form
as i caress your perfection
my angel, i'll tear your insides out
my mind is flooding, the marrow of your bones
i cannot subside 'til i have suckled every inch of you
your features now glazed in your own blood
my fingers find home amongst your guts
and in my dreams i hold your head beneath the waves
after you've died, i kiss the nape of your porcelain neck
you enter me in death's perpetual embrace