My Heart

Cut it out,
And let it burn,
Take a match to its damp folds,
Watch the delicate patterns form,
Blackened ash falls gently,
A psychological problem,
Wants me to stamp it out.

Set it out,
Allow the sun to bake,
Sun dried pain,
Take it in your hands,
And swallow it whole,
Decorate it with your raisins.

Stab it,
Allow the crimson plasma,
To decorate your face,
Calmly littering your skin,
So gentle and white,
Now tainted.

Pound it with a hammer,
Watch it spread,
Rare patterns of gyrated flesh,
So deliciously massacred,
And make it apologize.

Let it mold,
From the inside out,
Watch the green ornaments form,
Caressing its bloody sides,
A mark of its death,
A stroke of its inevitable defeat,
I own you now.

You deserve to die,
You're ignorant to nature's calling,
I let you fall now,
Into my ripped,
Lacerated,
Gashed,
Cleaved,
Womb.
Where you so wish to live.