with sweet malice they slice
or soften the core.
the cutting scorn negated by pressing passions.
it speaks in vibration manipulation,
in movements of little flicks and grand scheme gestures,
gleams of glistening yearning and dripping in loathing.
languid loving then quick cutting,
crosshair and shooting
silver bullets with cupid’s arrows.

the body’s natural polygamous polyglot.

kissing lust into submission,
throwing sharp retorts of poison.
us animals licking the wounds of the full hearted.
the unwanted
and adored.
the abhored and

some wounds,
as primal as the pulse,
need tended.


Two Sentence Horror XIX

‘Say ah’, he said, forcing splinters from the tongue press through my flesh. That pool of blood merits my fear of dentists.