Darling, if I may call you so

Another poem inspired by my WIP, of course!

Gorged on necessity,
I wipe the spittle spilt
Down on my boots
Worn soleless.                                       And I?
                                                                More than a cobbler’s
                                                                Nightmarish visitor.
Darling, if I may call you so,
                                              How long before the feaster
                                                                                           Finds themselves the feast?
My hands held out
To eyeless clocks and faceless skies
I cried to Her who hears:
                                                              Consume me! Consume me!
                                                              Render me a tender thing!
If only I’d receive Crane’s answer.
                                                                                                  I am decay and decaying,
                                                                                           Part of an endless expansion.
                                                               Before the sense has long
                                                               To sink within, I am consumed.
                                                               She is come. She is come!