My dear
My Lord
My haunt
My word
(eaten, like
a sword, skewered
down to the last
letter)
My prisoner fights
against my belly and
I keep talking loud
enough to cover
his screams
(HA! this is what
happens when you
give me your word
I take a promise
seriously or at
the very least I
take it, mine now,
not yours)
My sweet
My meat
My clawed
afterthought
Burp