Torchure
Blowtorch to a closed mouth
til it opens for a scream,
then the torch is forced down
the throat, now gurgling.
Burnt and broken black teeth,
Jagged to the touch,
Scrape, revealing sheen,
In scars they leave on rust.
Back and forth the torch thrusts,
Perverse in his scheme,
Finally he found lust,
Just to wake from a dream.
Copyright © Bo Vigoren | Year Posted 2016
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