You are all living on
borrowed time. In my head I have killed you in a hundred different ways. And
it's not enough to kill you. I want you to know who is eating your heart out.
You, little missy, sitting in the corner,
hiding from the world. I have taken a nail and a hammer and nailed you to that wall. And just when
you’re about to lose consciousness, I pluck you from the wall and thrust you
into the light. With a gaping hole where your heart used to be; pinned to that
wall. Still beating. You’ll die from shock; your eyes wide with fear as your
body struggles to cope with the loss of such a precious commodity. But it’s
mine now.
And it tastes so good.
You, sir, as normal as can be, who married
for convenience instead of money; love instead of safety. Have you ever heard of Daw Tway? It’s this
little pill with suspiciously high amounts of arsenic and lead. Did you know
that lead poisoning increases blood pressure? In some cases high blood pressure
can cause the blood vessels in your eyes to burst and you can even exsanguinate
through your eyes.
Would you like some more coffee?
You, ma’am, with your two children in the
car, waiting for mommy to leave the liquor store. I’ve marked little x’s on
your body where the needles will go. Mercury is considered by some to be an aphrodisiac.
I certainly enjoyed myself. Watching your body swell, your organs rejecting
everything. There isn’t as much blood as I’d like but I took pictures of your
face twisted in agony and that’s more than enough to get me through.
You were so beautiful at the end.
You, miss, with your head held high as you
walk down the street in your brand new coat; you left the tag on. Or did you
steal it? Either way, it’s the bricks for you. One to knock you out. One to
silence you; you won’t need those teeth anymore. One for every finger as you
whimper. How precious. One brick to travel slowly up your body, pounding you
into dust. In some places the flesh doesn’t even break and you scream for me
when your beautiful flesh turns to ash.
Finding your body was part of a prank I
pulled on the entire city. Like a get well balloon.
You, mister wonderful, with your kind soul
and your sickeningly sweet smile. You have such beautiful eyes. I strapped you
to my special chair and used a knife; just a steak knife from the kitchen.
Dulled from years of use. But it does the job just fine. Your eyeballs pop
right out of their sockets with just the slightest bit of pressure. I cut them
off at the nerves quite easily and while you’re screaming, I pop one down your throat to shut you up. You don’t even get time to chew. But then you start to choke
and your eye sockets get so huge.
I can almost read the fear in your
beautiful blue iris in my hand.
You, oh you, thank you for mowing my lawn
but I’ll take it from here. And while you’re walking away, your pant leg will
catch in the motor. I might help it along but soon you’ll be dragged under and
sliced to bits. Pieces of you flying all over the neighbourhood. Out here for
everyone to see. I’m not one for exhibitionism but to share you with everyone,
I might make an exception.
I just want everyone to know what you taste
like. I’m lonely in my ambition.
You’re strapped to a chair. I take my knife
and I cut a clean line across your throat. Blood gushes out. I penetrate, deep,
into both of your shoulders. Blood spills. I slice across both your wrists.
Blood trickles. You beg me to stop but it’s not what I want to hear. You know
it, you must know it. My knife pierces the right side of your chest. Your tears
are not red. Why aren’t they red? Can’t you understand what I need?
I cut a smile into your stomach and you
sing, carving out my desires from your deepest soul.
Finally.
That sweet, piercing sound. Just for me.
Thank you.
Thank you for singing for your supper.
You are all my playthings. I am the puppet
master. You are the bloodied strings.
And you will all sing
for me.
