Sta.sh
Now is the time to tell you.
I've been watching desperately.
I never meant to be so depressing,
but it comes so naturally.
Now I'll take my beating heart
and sew it on your chest.
I'm sorry that it's still warm.
At the cold, I've tried my best.
My fingers are finally black:
decayed, hardly moving.
Am I getting closer?
Am I worth loving?
I won't stop now.
I wish I can tell you why.
Can you feel that, love?
Neither can I.
My heart is slowing, dear.
I'm the coldest I've been in a while.
Will you love me now,
sweet, sweet necrophile?
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As de Sade said in his poem about a necro:
He gave her his highest compliment
When he said: "She was worth the dig!"
I once wrote a story set in a future world where vampires were out of the casket, so to speak, and accepted as members of society with civil rights protection from the government. The hero was a die-hard vampire killer who wasn't buying that shit. Based it on the Hansel and Gretel story where the witch keeps the two children in a cage and fattens them up. Have to brush that off and write it up. There's a point in the story where the vampire hunter is in their lair...these were old school vamps who were catatonic during the day...and he's about to stake this beautiful vamp and there's this long moment where he is paralyzed with lust and has to fight off the temptation to rape her corpse. He finally comes to his senses. Seems this fate of having necro-sex with a vamp and being so into it he stays too long and the sun goes down and he is sucked dry but dies with a grin on his face. The hunters even have a name for it. The call it: "Ripping off a cold piece."
Necros aren't all that different than rapists and serial killers. Ted Bundy...the Man...used to pick up girls on the college campus then hit them over the head to disable them and take them to a place he had in the woods to rape them. Whether the blow to the head killed them or not made little difference.
Some rapists like them kicking and screaming, others are in to having them unconscious. They get off and having the woman completely inert and under their control. It's just a jump to the left and then a step to the right to necrophilia from there.
Personally, I always wanted a T-shirt that said:
Once you go necrophiliac, you'll never go back!
WONDERFUL poem though.
I don't understand it either, and I think that's part of the reason I wanted to write this.