Pulling No Punches
"Let me draw your bath, dear Grace!"
(the space heater's perched upon the rim,
and there's hydrochloric acid, just in case!)
My .45 revolver, my machete from Trelew
will come in very handy
if the other two exigencies fall through!
I think I've thought of everything
except to kill that creep you slept with,
may he rot in Hades, damn his eyes!
Now the the only thing remaining,
harlot, bane of my existence,
is my holler of delight at your demise!
Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2016
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