Useless Plea

Don't plea to your god,
because it cannot save you.
You're in my steel clutches,
where no one can reach you.
Hidden under my overcoat,
where no one can find you.
They can't rescue you now.
And I won't let you go.

You can scream if you want.
Here, no one can hear you.
Here, no one can see you.
Here, no one can taste you.
Or touch you, or sense you.

You should stop breathing,
for soon you shall die.
The blood on my knife.
The metallic, salty taste of it.
It's thick and rich,
like vanilla custard.
And probably tastes just as good.