she had to admit
playing dead with
scummed ****
and a mouth full
that also glued her eyelids shut
brought her to ******
a good slap across the mouth made her **** wet
maybe her strewn flogged body
and *** filled with
tampons, butter knives, and mushed chocolate bunnies
would be discovered
by some gawking men
who would of course be horrified
yet feel some inexplicable romantic impulse
towards her
a study in male humiliation
dressed in a nightmarish logic
and broken heels
her eyes glared askance
with a mouth like smudged ketchup
and a note
hello, I'm dead, you can **** me now, no ones looking
common little man
timorous mouse
with a dead end job
your belligerence
belies your self self pity
she wore sunglasses to cover the bruises he inflicted
*****, noose, twine for a proper strangle
and ghastly potions
to inspire the tears and vomiting
in nurturing waves
that always helped the snuffling up
for a sicko *** massacre
with an all you could **** buffet beating
that made her long hair
fly around like a legendary Bollywood dancer
she spit in his face
they just shared a strange shadowy phantasmagoria
with her bare naked
on her knees
*** upturned and swollen
like a piqued daisy
while her hips moved
from side to side
as if weaving a samba
where at his whim she died repeatedly
a humming *** slave
straddled on a the heavy bladed guillotine
while getting backdoored
in a way
that
they both just couldn't live without
The Beauty of Ruin