You carve a doll out of wax and curse it with voodoo.
Candles in the sun burn with her soft skin.
Oh, she is hot. Hot. Hot. Hot.
But you don't want them to know-
the pleasure of watching her melt.
You think she was stolen
and passed around,
so you stick nails in her heart.
Pity takes your soul and the bit of it
you put into her hole.
Plugged with metal against your wall.
Hold a lighter to her chest.
Bleed her out.
Keep her hot. Hot. Hot. Hot.
Don't leave your toys out again.
Practice voodoo every day.
You imagine
her nose growing,
her eye glowing
with malice.
Hold the lighter to her face.
She's lost her head.
She still has lovely legs
part them to taste fear.
Don't want her to run away.
Hold the lighter to her feet.
Her tummy rumbles
with lust.
Silence it.
Leave her hot. Hot. Hot. Hot.
Voodoo master
but what good are you?
You own nothing but wax puddles.