2017-07-10 00:53:45
Placed in the middle of a dark room.
Gloomily lit with a spotlight on your sleeping body:
Head hanging,
Limp arms.
Slowly you awaken,
Looking at your surroundings through frightened eyes.
I come out of the dark.
You stare,
Not understanding my reasoning.
Oh, but you know.
How you know,
But refuse to admit it.
What I have seen,
What I have felt that you have allowed,
What harbors in the core of my mind;
Have come to see you eleven-fold.
Struggling you realize you cannot move.
I’ve strapped you tight with leather and wire.
I choose a syringed needle,
17 gauge,
Starting with your eyes;
Piercing the delicate, wet tissue of the cornea;
Moving carefully to ensure you feel the cold metal
As it slides deep in your pupil ever so slowly.
Going through the iris, the lens,
All the way to the very back of your tearing, burning eye.
I suction in the soft, tender tissue inside.
Hearing you scream,
Watching you claw at the wood of the chair,
Making your fingertips raw and bloody.
Splinters under your nails.
You plead as I’ve pleaded you.
Your fingers;
Filthy things that steal away the life and happiness of innocent women and children you’ve touched,
Your children.
I take scissors,
Placing the mouth at the lowest joint in each finger,
Squeezing hard and twisting until it cuts to bone.
I pull off the skin and muscle of each finger.
You do not deserve to feel the warmth on your fingers that touching a loved one brings.
Your hands;
They are dirty with greed,
I wash them with acid,
One drip at a time until it covers them up to your wrists.
Seeing how the skin bubbles and melts into muscle,
And muscle into bone.
You scream for mercy.
There is none left.
Your body contorts in agonizing pain like the pain you’ve caused.
Your mouth, your tongue, your lips.
The dispelling of a thousand lies.
I’ve selected a serrated blade,
To gradually shred;
Little by little,
Feeling it stick and jerk in the coarseness of your tongue,
The blood gushing through my fingers and running down my arms.
Embracing every vibration as it tears its way through the tough, soiled flesh;
Every moan, tear, scream you let out is pleasing.
Next, a needle and twine;
Coarse and hard,
Ripping holes in your frail lips with every stitch.
Let the feeling encompass you as your mouth is to be forever closed.
No more lies,
No promises left to be broken.
The brain.
It manipulates the mouth that speaks,
The lips that form words,
The tongue that lies.
The brain controls the hands,
The fingers that steal.
I take a drill and place it to your head,
Turning it to the highest setting,
I press,
Boring a hole through your skull that protects your fragile brain beneath.
I make 21 holes for 21 years.
You convulse and vomit until your last breath is breathed.
I lay your body on a metal table and take a surgical blade to your skin.
Making a “Y” cut in your chest,
I spread apart the layer of skin and fat to bear your ribs.
Wrapping my fingers around each bone,
I pull until they crack.
Picking up your heart,
And cutting the arteries that connect it to you,
I take your heart in my bloody hands and hold it to my cheek.
I smile contentedly.
“This…this is all I wanted…”
I am done.
I am tired.
I stand back and stare at your broken, lifeless body.
Blood draining and pooling,
Overflowing off the table,
Broken ribs sticking out of your chest,
Sitting wide open like a last inviting hug.
Climbing up onto the table, I lay inside of you.
Curling into a ball,
Knees to my chest;
Your heart tight in my arms like a child's teddy.
Your insides are soft and warm.
I feel loved.
A tear falls;
And I fall into a calm, quiet sleep.
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