Creating a Monster
Terrified to Fall
Impale her self with your sharpened stick.
Her heart will pump the life force
Out for the world to see.
She walked right in
You’ve just about carved her up now.
She always enjoys these little deaths,
but there’s a little concern…
What will happen to the pieces?
Will you lovingly keep them
In your deepest darkest memory
Or will you discard all of it,
Scatter them, laughing
across the city, to be consumed.
She’s your Little-Miss-Frankenstein
A monster created and unleashed.
Curve, crevice, cackle, cunt.
Kiss her nipple in your sleep,
Convincing her to stay.
Gentlemanly hands rough
On her stitched and manipulated body
Keep her from running into the night.
This piece from “The Purr of the Mattress.”
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