Brutality

Ostentatious folk feed the famished,

Pretentious shrinks…read the damaged,

Question a mind fresh,

And question a heart cold.

In brutality, only,

We, harmony,

Like octaves upon the scale of souls,

1 to never disagree with what 10 chose.

Behind the ear balances a bead of blood,

A bead of many, the bead was,

Blades scratch the softer surface,

Where the edges justify their harder purpose,

The mist of mind, the crowd I vision,

The motion of hands, no cost to precision,

I scrap her scalp, dry skin and dirt,

My bloody fingers swab her skirt,

Muffled screams, and little chirps,

Her eyes are wide, breathes quick be curt,

I, will, converse,

With her soft skin,

How it bends, to the point,

I can feel the tensing in her strained muscles…and…the aching in her joints,

I dive,

Into,

Her,

Thighs,

Her,

Eyes,

Broke,

While her red spoke,

To, me,

I drag the edge,

To where her screams led.

There’s a space below the cap of the knees,

I dig deep at slow speeds,

I dig deep, and heed,

The warnings of my decadence,

These needs, for her,

I pry open the walls of life,

To remove what matters,

With the unfortunate intensity of the knife,

The blood splatters,

Atop the blinding white walls,

I’ll feel it…when the art calls,

For me to dig deeper, to reach her stomach,

When her heart falls, then I’ve done it,

I’ve caused the frail heart to break,

A tale of the art of hate,

Blood racing through a tube into a rounded plate,

A bowl,

I remove the sweaty tape from her lips and force her blood into her soul,

Drowning out the screams of no,

Her eyes low, but breathing bold,

The table holds,

Her wrists,

She drinks,

She persists,

She drown, she sinks,

I exist,

She blinks, no blinks,

This is it,

I’ve broken her heart.

Ostentatious folk feed the famished,

Pretentious shrinks…read the damaged,

Question a mind fresh,

And question a heart cold.

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