the split open
with a knife
puncture any organ
inside, type.
His skull, bleeds black
down his sorry spine
no soul in sight.
Unforgiving throbbing,
thought out snaps
of synapses;
slide the blade in and
JERK
our sin is complete.
His head is conquered
with only late reactions,
contortions and spasmistic
contractions
to show for his master's
migraine of spite.
Stand in front of the mirror and challenge your reflection, I beat mine every time.
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