All the Medieval Torture Depictions
we send to each other
back and forth like demented pigeons
carrying sick expressions of love
through the now digital post
you really get me
I say and you say
but it makes me wonder
while we’re eating some time
at Iro Izakaya in Berlin
if my body will suddenly split open
and this tiny purple horny demon
will pop out of me like a stripper
from a cake
and rip the skin off your chest
and take your heart in his hand
and just bite right into it
as if were the softest apple
with the jaws of a steel trap
and there in that moment
with the table soaked in blood
and little bits of pulp floating
when the server comes over
if he would just stare at her chewing
with the ugliest fire in his eyes
and promptly ask for more wasabi
and a napkin