Talking Through the Hole in Your Chest

When I saw myself as an instrument of vengeance, I did not see myself a slick, shining smooth god flying somewhere near the sun. I didn't see myself with perfect skin and a sly smile as I was sticking knives into deserving chests.  No black trench coat. No secret sex language. I wasn't golden at all. I saw something else. I knew what I could become.

I saw myself more like Kali with her grotesque lips peeled back in a grimacing smile to reveal a hundred teeth and a lulling tongue; her cunt the black gateway to the end of the world. She knew what it meant to sever heads and drink blood. I saw myself with great black demonic wings and the sharpest teeth you ever saw. A head full of shark teeth. Claws an inch long dripping in rotten flesh. The Great Devourer. Perfect only in destruction and her ability to mete it out. A heart ripper; straight out of the chest. A heart eater, blood dripping down my chin. Shreds of meat still stuck in my teeth. Eyes glowing piss yellow looking to eat all your bad, bad deeds. 

And I might set you aflame. I like how immolation tastes on my tongue. I like shallow graves and flames reaching the sky. You know she calls for it. Her great sword lifted high over her head; she screams your name with every girl you rape and every life you take. Have you met my sisters? Furies each and every one of them. Those are snakes in their hands. The stories said Athena tamed them, but the truth... The truth was they tore right through her. Left the bitch bleeding in her own temple and hounded Orestes until he ripped his own eyes out of his head.  They drank the fluid in his brain and snapped his bones open to suck the marrow straight out. You can't stop the anger of the dead.

I am the grotesque. The perfect rotting center of the world. With a thousand eyes turned in all directions in all time I felt every wrong. Every death. Every crying mass curled on the floor. Every shuttering breath as a heart stopped in the hands of the wrong person. And I came for them all. Black lips, shark teeth, hatred turning my skin languid. I came with knives. And I came with swords. I came with a shot to the back of the head.

I ripped them apart. I ate the parts I wanted and spat the rest back out. I sucked the juice from their eyes. I broke their spines and let them live without limbs. I slit stomachs open and read the entrails like star maps. I felt skulls crush under my fingers. I snapped vertebrae like brittle candy. I howled. I screeched. I hounded. I raced through the back roads of the worlds. I chased and I hunted and I ate my fill. I killed with fear. I killed with teeth.  I killed with a smile. I killed until the world was clean and still it was never enough.

That's when I decided to burn the whole fucking thing down. May some god with more mercy and patience than I save you all.

The Bomb

I want to form my heart into a weapon of mass destruction. I want to kiss you until I incinerate you. Immolate you; set a fire so fucking big you can see it from space. I got a heart of broken glass and fiery hate and divine love. I keep dynamite stuffed in my bra and accelerant tucked in the band of my underwear. I can rig your sex toys to explode. I may have already set fire to your sheets while you were in the bathroom. I unhooked all the fire alarms and disabled the sprinkler system. I have molotov cocktails brewing in the shower and I filled the refrigerator with C4. Don't jiggle the handle or you will set if off. Let's fire bomb our enemies. Let's burn up the neighborhood. I'm your pipe bomb, bombshell. I've got the detonator and the urge to use it. Ain't nobody surviving my love. I'm the heart demolisher and I'm gonna bomb you back to the stone age, fucker.

Blame

If I told you that I loved you, would you hold it against me?

I Called You Spider Heart

You can't seem to help but tease me not realizing what I went through as a child and just how much I hate to be teased. You laugh and fall into my arms kissing me as hard as you can. Middle of the night adventures and sly looks from the doorman. I've got swagger and a pair of stilettos in my bag. I can wiggle my butt with the best of them. Late night call girls and junkie eyes saw me pass with a big smile on my face as I rushed down the stairs and straight into a waiting taxi. Your voice on the other side of the city distant in the dark, crouching, waiting to swallow me.

I checked that my tits looked perfect in the elevator mirror. I wore my tightest pants. All hips, and ass and scented desire. Quiet knocks, silly jokes, giggling and louder obnoxious hotel sex for hallway ears to hear. I feel like a goddess in your careful worship. Perfect for a little while. Wanted. Needed. Undone. I am undone. Four AM phone calls still buzzing in my ear, I watch the dawn close in on us, skin naked and slick against the unwanted light. A few hours of precious 'just letting it go.' All spent. Every condom in the room used. Every breathe in my body exhausted. A war zone of pillows and sheets spread about the bed. I lay against you and listen to the fear rush back into your heart. Soon enough I'm dreaming as you toss and turn next to me.

I called you Little Spider Heart, skittering away as fast as can be. Finding some dusty corner to hide in. Jumping out to frighten me in the middle of the night.  I can see your misery. They once called me the Ice Maiden, too numb to have felt any of this. They don't call me anything now. He said 'there's nothing wrong with you girl. There's lots right.' But most days I don't feel that. Most days... yes, most days... I don't feel.

I know you need a destroyer trying to take you down with her. Little Kali and her little needles. Sweetest little strawberry blonde candy, all wrapped up in broken hurt and dangerous situations. It's a wicked thing to do. This little heart. This little candy heart. Spiders lick candy clean in glistening webs just over my head. I go quietly into the wet morning, trains rumbling in my bones, knowing I won't see you again. At least not this time. There's always next time. Next time. Next time, little spider heart all the way to the sea where it's never me. Never me. Never, ever me.

Fucker

And I screamed into his face, "WHO HAS THE FUCKING GUN HERE?!!" spitting vodka and warm saliva across his brow. I leveled the sights with his nose.

"Me! I have the fucking gun!" I watched his lip quiver a little. Even with a gun shoved under his nose he still managed to sneak a quick peak at my cleavage. I considered emptying the entire clip into his left eye socket. Fucker.

"Please baby. I didn't mean it!" he pleaded into the gun barrel. He gave me his most sincere face, that was until his eyes started to drift towards my breasts again. My finger twitched against the trigger. 

The New Ripper

I was surprised how easily the scalpel slipped through the skin. Not unlike a butter knife slipping into a soft pat of butter, and while his skin was as white as soft butter, when the blood started oozing forth that was where the likeness ended. The blood was more like chocolate syrup and raspberry jam all mixed together flowing down his chest in thin viscus rivulets. I read somewhere once that inside the body blood is actually purple or blue but when it hits the air the iron in it oxidizes and turns it the vivid red we are used to. I wondered if your blood would be blue if you bled in space where there was no oxygen.

I shook my head and turned back to my work. And that was what it was becoming. Work, a calling, a violent career in the making. The hours of planning, preparation, and execution that it took to get to this point could only lead to a life long pursuit. As the blood oozed little trails away from my incision, the young man on my table started to gurgle. His eyes fluttered backwards in a contortion of pain and fear. The restraints did their job and kept his straining limbs in place and the gag tied firmly around his head kept his cries muffled.

"You know you're my first." I whispered in his ear. "Isn't that a lovely symmetry? You were the first person to rape me. And now... Well, now you're another first. My first work of art."

He thrashed against the table, his eyes wide saucers of fear staring up at me. I made another incision next to the initial cut, deeper than the first, the blood coming fast and hard now.

"I wonder how long I can do this before you pass out? If I pour gasoline in your eyes, do you think that would keep you awake?" I said glancing down into his panic stricken face, "Since you are my first, we're just gonna have to experiment, aren't we? You like experiments, don't you? It's science, after all!"

I lengthened the incision towards his stomach and felt the muscles of his abdominal wall resist than suddenly give way like coiled springs snapping under pressure. The rivulets of blood now turning to deep crimson rivers.

"O, how I wish I could hear you scream!" I chirped digging the blade in deeper, "What a lovely sound it would be! Did you enjoy it when I screamed? Did it turn you on? Make you go harder? Did you enjoy the bruises blossoming on my skin as much as I am enjoying the patterns the blood is making as it runs down your sides? And look at the beauty of these striations in the layers of muscle and skin! Truly art!"

Here his muffled screams became moans as he rolled his head from side to side in anguish.

"Well then, that's a wonderful sound too, isn't it? Are you about to pass out? You know, I think I might have something to help you stay awake that might even be better than gasoline. We wouldn't want to you to miss any of this." Reaching into my bag, I pulled out a large syringe full of glistening fluid. I held it above his head turning it in the light.

"See this?" His eyes flickered but I could still see the recognition there. "It's adrenaline. I stole it from the hospital where I volunteer. The nurses should be more careful about where they leave their keys. That's how I got my hands on all these surgical tools too. It took me months to gather every thing I needed to avoid suspicion but you were worth it, my dear. You were worth it."

I smiled down at him, "Adrenaline injections directly to the heart are supposed to be very painful. Are you ready?"

Blood started pouring from around the edges of the gag. He choked and made a few feeble strains against the table, the blood loss slowing him down. I took the needle in hand, pulled back and plunged the tip deep into his chest as hard as I could to break past his sternum and into his heart. His eyes flew open in sudden panic and pain as the needle hit the mark and the drug forced it's way into his veins. His entire body arched against the bonds towards the ceiling in a beautiful curve of suffering straight to the sky.

"Beautiful." I gasped.

He looked at me with terror and tears welling up in his eyes, pleading. I could almost here him think 'please let me go.'

"It's too late to apologize," I said picking up a bone scalpel from my collection of tools. I patted his cheek with my free hand, "Don't worry we have all night my dear but like all great love affairs and all great works of art it has to come to an end sometime. And besides, you can't have me all to yourself, there are others like you who need to meet my tender touch. But don't worry, you won't have to stay in your grave alone for long."

I dug the tip of the blade in and thought, "Just like butter."

Drowning for Fun and Profit

I am soft. Soft skin. Soft edges. Soft mind. All soft. Sometimes I feel like I'm flowing like gentle babbling brooks lost in the brambling green trees with twinkling emerald leaves and soft moss floors.  Other times I feel frozen up like deep clear ice on winter lakes sparkling in the harsh cold sun of frosting days with glaring white snow up over your hips. You sink down into that snow and you stay frozen.

The hard crust of the bread sinks into my soft gums and bruises. I yelp in pain. You dug your fingers into the too-white skin on the inside of my thigh and bruises blossomed there like purple and red flowers lining the pathway in the garden. I didn't make a sound. I want to be adored but I can't stand to be around people for too long. Their brains touching up against mine. Thoughts, words, emotions pressing against me. I feel like a butterfly under glass thrashing my wings against a clear prison with freedom only an illusion on the other side.

They once called me 'the girl nobody knows', enigmatic as I can be. Dancing alone night after night. I didn't want to know. I still want to be unknown. I don't want to hear all those thoughts. Feel all those emotions. I want to wrap myself in the careful darkness and never open my eyes again. I am as soft as kittens feet. Absolutely silent in my wants. Some days I lose sight of those ends and those means and I just roll over and go back to sleep.

This one said he loved me under the mask of ear-shattering music hoping I wouldn't hear the confession. That one told me to stop looking at him like that. This one slipped away as we aged and moved on to other lives. This one wept in my arms until he hated me. This one told me he didn't love me anymore. This one came back over and over again like a lost cat. This one never loved me but could never let me go. I don't need you. You are see through.

I tell myself every night tomorrow will be different.  But the sun shines through the window in morning; I open my eyes in half wakefulness and nothing's changed.