Thirst

There. Your eyes fixed on mine. Mine on yours.
Fumes of anger, pain, psychosis, vengeance.
I catch hold of delicate glasses on the table.
One word. The glass breaks. Red thrill.
Dare to stop. I bite those little pieces. Munch.
Thousand rivulets around the rings of root,
worm through the tights of my skin.
You won't budge. You won't ask. No answer.
My soles crush points and edges. I feel wet.
Red boots put up to pressure, pleasure.
See me. I am now, what you always wanted.
Exuding my holy for your dark thirst.