You are all living on borrowed time. In my head I have killed you in a hundred different ways. And it's not enough to kill you. I want you to know who is eating your heart out.
You, little missy, sitting in the corner, hiding from the world. I have taken a nail and a hammer and nailed you to that wall. And just when you’re about to lose consciousness, I pluck you from the wall and thrust you into the light. With a gaping hole where your heart used to be; pinned to that wall. Still beating. You’ll die from shock; your eyes wide with fear as your body struggles to cope with the loss of such a precious commodity. But it’s mine now.
And it tastes so good.
You, sir, as normal as can be, who married for convenience instead of money; love instead of safety. Have you ever heard of Daw Tway? It’s this little pill with suspiciously high amounts of arsenic and lead. Did you know that lead poisoning increases blood pressure? In some cases high blood pressure can cause the blood vessels in your eyes to burst and you can even exsanguinate through your eyes.
Would you like some more coffee?
You, ma’am, with your two children in the car, waiting for mommy to leave the liquor store. I’ve marked little x’s on your body where the needles will go. Mercury is considered by some to be an aphrodisiac. I certainly enjoyed myself. Watching your body swell, your organs rejecting everything. There isn’t as much blood as I’d like but I took pictures of your face twisted in agony and that’s more than enough to get me through.
You were so beautiful at the end.
You, miss, with your head held high as you walk down the street in your brand new coat; you left the tag on. Or did you steal it? Either way, it’s the bricks for you. One to knock you out. One to silence you; you won’t need those teeth anymore. One for every finger as you whimper. How precious. One brick to travel slowly up your body, pounding you into dust. In some places the flesh doesn’t even break and you scream for me when your beautiful flesh turns to ash.
Finding your body was part of a prank I pulled on the entire city. Like a get well balloon.
You, mister wonderful, with your kind soul and your sickeningly sweet smile. You have such beautiful eyes. I strapped you to my special chair and used a knife; just a steak knife from the kitchen. Dulled from years of use. But it does the job just fine. Your eyeballs pop right out of their sockets with just the slightest bit of pressure. I cut them off at the nerves quite easily and while you’re screaming, I pop one down your throat to shut you up. You don’t even get time to chew. But then you start to choke and your eye sockets get so huge.
I can almost read the fear in your beautiful blue iris in my hand.
You, oh you, thank you for mowing my lawn but I’ll take it from here. And while you’re walking away, your pant leg will catch in the motor. I might help it along but soon you’ll be dragged under and sliced to bits. Pieces of you flying all over the neighbourhood. Out here for everyone to see. I’m not one for exhibitionism but to share you with everyone, I might make an exception.
I just want everyone to know what you taste like. I’m lonely in my ambition.
You’re strapped to a chair. I take my knife and I cut a clean line across your throat. Blood gushes out. I penetrate, deep, into both of your shoulders. Blood spills. I slice across both your wrists. Blood trickles. You beg me to stop but it’s not what I want to hear. You know it, you must know it. My knife pierces the right side of your chest. Your tears are not red. Why aren’t they red? Can’t you understand what I need?
I cut a smile into your stomach and you sing, carving out my desires from your deepest soul.
That sweet, piercing sound. Just for me. Thank you.
Thank you for singing for your supper.
You are all my playthings. I am the puppet master. You are the bloodied strings.
And you will all sing for me.