Clawing at her insides till feet drag her through.
Blood drizzles behind them marking
The time till the daisies bloom above.
Candy stripes smock lean across and
Knows what is desired.
Scrabbling for coins. Count them. Now. Hurry.
The tiny scab of meat chipped.
Only the one? And he seems disappointed in you.
The sunlight dimples as he hands IT over.
Taking nothing in return.
Out. Of. Kindness.
He gives her his eyeballs, places them gently in her breast pocket
And they bulge awkwardly, obviously, bleeding too coating her in him. Staining
the Last good shirt.
Only his eyes roam free, cutting her open,
As he is a professional no nicks or tears are seen.
Clean cuts that quantify her worth.
Spin like a rotisserie.
Time later the chop sizzles anditstickstohermouthandshecan’tswallowandsheiscryingandshedoesn’tknowwhy.
And The Hunger Passes From Them.
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