I Prefer Black Bile.

Darkness comes in all bitter flavors...
Some are undesirable, a quite few to savor.
Everyone has their taste, everyone has a shadow...
What kind haunts you, where the still light is shallow?

Is it the singing fire, of a lust filled with love?
Or is it like the hungered crows that swarm from above?
Maybe yours is less evident, but a spiraling addiction...
Looking to devour in its binding constriction.

Could it be that the black that you feed, is rather red?
Or could it be that the cutting is all in your head?
Whatever the cause that is ripping your seams...
They all are realities that spawned from dark dreams.

Some like surprises, and some like to give...
Giving sweet death as they tastelessly live.
Murder is their shade in which they hide from the world...
A darkening wrinkle in the curl of the burl.

As you can see, there are flavors that vary...
Always arising in Deaths never buried.
And me you ask? What makes my time worthwile?

I love all of them, frankly...but I prefer black bile.