The Thrasher-Slasher
It's a sowing machine of knivesAn in-and-out pattern of taking life
Each of the 36 stabs a stitch
But stitches won't fix these slices
Rhythm / pull
Rhythm / pull
In and pull
In and pull
A red tapestry eternally unsown
Fleshy fabric punctured
Skickity-skack
In and then back
A sweatshop of tears, blood, and water
A workshop of rhythmic slaughter
Before the Aftercare
Chains and whips will fixRopes pulled tight and quick
Slavery / satisfaction / security / safety
Pleasure and pain mixed with empathy
On display / skin exposed / spanked red
Then kissed ever so sweetly
Bleached & Refined
A little ghost flitson Halloween night
between the porch lights
Candy held tightly in her fists
The trick is that the treats
though sweet
will someday make her flight less quick
When insulin is low
and the memory of thinness distant
The haunting and taunting
of the sugarcane spirit
beckons sweetly in the night
End.
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