What You Pay For

A blood spot on your flower dress,
Splashes and tears on your designer boots.
I slide the knife against your leg,
Pull out some hair,
Cut a D into your chest,
And spit in your face.

I turn you over,
Thrust the blade into your spinalcord,
Watch the rose form on your clothes,
Smirk at your cries for help.

I throw you onto you back,
Slip the dagger between your ribs so it punctures a lung.

I yank the blade out,
Blood dripped from the tip as I walked to the sink,
Small lakes of blood started forming.
You're still.

I rinsed the knife and threw it behind me,
It landed on your chest and your final breath escaped you,
You died on an inhale,
A gasp and a gurgle and you were quiet.

I came up to you,
Put my knee on your chest,
Bit off one of your cheeks,
Swallowed and bit off the other.

I searched threw drawers,
Coming upon the perfect item.

I dipped the paint brush in the red lake around you,
I covered it well.

I found a white wall,
I tore down all the pictures and tossed them on the bloody floor,



Upon the wall I wrote:

"You get what you pay for."

I underlined it and stumbled out.

No one?