Sarah’s Origin
My eyes stare straight,
fixated on something in the distance,
humming a song that would send chills,
if you ever got the chance to listen.
A padded cell and a straitjacket,
the doctor giving one of his ‘visits,’
his moans filled the padded room,
as did the sound of flesh slapping flesh.
I just just kept going with my little tune,
a teardrop cascading down my cheek,
a light bounce of my breast,
meds numbed me both mentally
and physically but I knew what was happening.
Just couldn’t think or do anything to stop it,
the final howl and he makes his leave,
been stuck here since I was thirteen,
every week the same routine.
Now I’m thirty in a blink,
everything from abortions to a lobotomy,
lost to the system that doesn’t even know I breathe.
Anger swelled then a rushing wave,
crashing into the rocks of a cliffside,
a dawning that never occurred,
an ember not flickered but burned bright,
Patient 379, are you ready for the ride?
Doctors next visit a sly curl of thy lips,
he acts as if he’s preforming a ‘checkup,’
he leans in close smelling me in,
face pushes in between my tits,
as he caresses them oh enjoy it little pig.
Butterfly kiss up my neck to my velvet lips,
this time I returned the gift.
Hi gaze meets mine and I think he knew,
this time it was him that didn’t know what to do,
I lunge forward grasping his jugular in a vice,
my teeth clench and I flex it deeper,
with a turn of my head a taste of iron,
crimson mist splatters my face scarlet.
As he chokes I hover drinking in his gurgles,
dropping the chunk of him,
let him see my toothy grin,
before I dig into his flesh ripping,
tearing not for hunger but pleasure,
just for sport his last moments a horrid,
savage maelstrom of visceral cannibalism.
I hear the cells steel door open,
remove my straight jacket my head a tilt,
five orderlies pour in.
Fools,
their hands shaking and stance steadfast,
I grasp the dead cadavers arm,
crack with a slam to my knee,
and the sound of tearing tendon snaps,
they step back,
as I hold the wrist of a makeshift shiv.
Smile playfully curled the edges of my lips,
standing tightening my grip,
a standoff commences,
my laughter and their screams is how it ends.
An alarm blares as I open every cell,
I have dreams that will come to fruition,
need people willing to help me sell tickets.
Scream cries shrieks inside this asylum,
a symphony of victory and wrenching parts.
[Live from Rustledge Asylum a horrific scene today,
over three hundred bodies missing they say,
buckets of blood and limbs fill the hallways,
but not one full person was found.
Do not open your doors,
especially for people you don’t know.
Of the three hundred missing,
200 of the most vile horrific individuals,
all with horrid criminal backgrounds,
maybe on the loose holding hostages.
Prayers to the families of the other one hundred,
we hope they come home safe.]
Whirrs permeate with torch sparks and grinders,
wails and bats on cages to silence them,
a man walks up to me asks the plan.
I stand slice his throat with a swift flick,
the others back up faces filled with rage,
I stab his eye and twist,
wrist and head in sync as I meet their gaze.
“You’ll do what I say or meet the same fate,
until I say something do you,
don't you worry about me!
But have fun be free,
it’s really easy hehe.”
Sling of Damascus rings and sings,
from his bone as I slip out the blade.
A flash of my past,
Back when I was thirteen,
I wasn’t so mean.
I used to be really pretty,
less scars more life within me.
Kids bullied me for being unkept,
we had no water,
and both my parents had been home,
for months,
hanging around by their necks.
So I just would keep walking by,
I talked to them tell them my day, well try,
rope taught noises would answer my banter.
One day a kid I saw kick a puppy, laughter,
and stomp…. and stomp…. and stopped,
mirth filled his loins sucking in his handy work.
He was my first and initial kismet,
cried as I tore balls and stem with pliers,
and his parents wouldn’t shut the up,
until I picked up a hammer,
made them by bashing their brains in,
their skulls tumulus drums to my rancor.
The feeling of the kill,
Mmh tingle of adrenaline no object in intimates,
could ever wish to fill or pill or vile swill,
So I kept going,
worked up the chain before suddenly,
it was just me the teacher in the classroom.
Somehow he knew hehehe,
so I killed his high pitched noisy ass too.
The whole school for that matter,
next a hardware store family I splattered.
Was gaining momentum with each new home,
more clever as I always had meat for dinner,
upgrading my weapons,
I don’t like guns they are too quick,
but bacon loves them so I carried,
cute silver 44 bulldog,
all the trimmings, flares, buckshot, etc.
Blueberries and cherries mom and dad rictus,
I could tell by the pulsing of maggots,
they too were worried,
sad mad flys burst as I stood,
making my way out from bumping him to a twist,
body shaking he was angered with my choices.
Cracked out a window with the pistol handle,
couple flare shots,
blinded cops,
shotgun shells made quick of their scurry.
Last one was a zaftig old man,
I made him open his mouth,
whispering sensually,
as I thrusted the barrel in,
kiss on the forehead I held,
and dropped the hammer,
like I said too quick a flash and fun was over.
Then a burning sensation vision went spotty,
snipers got me.
Coroner said I was dead but I wasn’t,
guy sold me to this asylum as an easy .
My whole life a long wretched run,
well now I’ll be lathering spit,
and clenching and breaking .
Hahaha as my eyes drink it all in,
the bodies of the asylum,
pelted and weathered,
stitched anguish frozen and feathered,
a big top carnival,
bone crimson and skin,
of those me and my crew severed.
I am the ringleader,
Sarah,
mistress of leather.
Come one,
come all,
come hither,
come be apart of something bigger…..
Copyright ©
Beatrix Macabre
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