10/25/23

Press spikes through my palms, slow. Jam your thumbnails through my eyelids so they tear like paper and scoop the gelatin out of the cavity. Grind my skull in your palms to a fine dust and let the wind carry it. Drill through my gums so that my molars and the like tumble loose out of my mouth.  Fashion them into a saw with which to begin a preliminary incision: left upper torso. Wrench my heart out skewered upon your middle finger.  And leave my tongue for last so that I can say ‘thank you, have a nice day.’