Struggle you fish.
Whimper to my delight.
The strained look of disgust plaster along with the crimson regret of their shortcomings.
I dare you to gasp where your throat is ripped.
As you curdle in your own filth,
I sit on your chest and stare you down.
That grin cemented with this guilty pleasure.
You make it so easy to place my knifes in.
And who could forget the smell you leave behind..?
That strong metallic you bleed is like I won a medal as I lace it in my fingers.
I can just taste your worth.
But you seem more worth it since your under my thumb.
Your hands that once grasped at my hair and jacket fails you now you're a nobody like you once saw me as.
It's a bitch ain't it?
Your lucky that those who supported you lay in rot.
And some in pieces.
Frightening how your buddy was easy to subdue,
The way he thought I'd just let him have his way with me.
Or that sister of yours.
Oh how feisty she was.
Too bad she chose to be huffy with me.
But she goes nicely with the lamp and center table.
Although,
I can see why she loved you so much.
I'm not sure if for your smell or how twisted you really are,
Russia.
Your pale face that mirrors your choking last moments,
I nuzzle your cheek.
Mmmm…
Your still warm.
But then again I just can't help myself.
As this lifeless body jolts unkindly to the feral ways I react.
Some would considered this cannibalism.
When in reality,
Humans have been said have to texture of pork.
They were close.
That depends on what you do with the body…
Not that it's such a big difference.
God,
We are so useful.
Too bad we make such a mess.
It's like we're a tick after we're dead.
We pop and burst what we're purely made of.
The juicy parts wither and become the very thing that you worked so hard at.
That mask of yours can be thinly cut to bacon.
Oh how people will wonder what you truly are.
And why you taste so sinfully good.
But you know what they say,
Some recipes are better behind locked doors.
Or better yet,
Cellars and attics.
And so you ooze and drip,
Just like the steel pipe you'd use on your victims such as I.
But why would it matter now?
You're fertilizer to my creations.
When your flesh is used to my specks and measures,
Your bones will be the template of more works to come.
Just like the fate your crazed sister felt.
It's sad that some of her remains had to be shredded..
Ultimately ruining a few things of my earlier plans.
As I nurse on that goosebumped neck,
I feel the droplets inking my maroon jacket.
That's going to be hard to wash off since blood tell of past history.
Not that really matters.
Cracks and tickers this spine makes.
And I'm just being as tender as I can.
I'm not animalistic,
But I can be rough when needed.
When push comes to shove,
Always show your true colors.
With tough skin comes tough love.
Restraint is a show in weakness.
I have nothing to hide.