Impale and gut me until I cough up the last of my wilting pansies,
Hack at the bark of my bones until they cease,

If need be, I'll listen to each word of your tirade,
Let my body take the blows to suffice yours with aid,

I'll let your sirens song of projection take me, full force,
Yes, I'm aware, it'll only end in the crucifixion of my walking corpse,

Indulge in mutilating me with the bullets of your throat,
I'll smile, looking down the barrel, even if the pistol of your tongue is no gloat,

Even when each sentence tears my tendons, I'll gladly let it lurch deeper into my innards,
I'll welcome a stream of crimson when my organs still sob blood afterwards,

I'll make space for the landfill in the core of my vessel,
If it makes you content, I'll plant your anguish in my soil, let it nestle,

Rips in my neck, I still I want you, have your sanctuary,
Rot the embers of my heart, you'll finally get your fantasy,

Don't shed worry for me,
It never hurt.