Wound

It is the addiction of it that calls me.
It touches me some where dark and moist and forgotten.
Soaked in sweat and poured of steam...
It tempts me in this moment of pain.
Screaming from under my skin let the ake and the sorrow melt upon this spoon.
Let me feed you it pleasures on my neck...
The beautiful white dragon.
I know ill never out run, yet here I am runing broken legged.