Gore for those Who Like to Visualize

I’ve been going on for twelve years;

This won’t take two.

No,

I’ll keep parading on

Throwing candy from my teddy bear float

Won’t make children love me.

It’ll make adults stop and remind me that 

Teddy bears are the sons of Teddy Roosevelt

While their daughters tug on their wrists.

Pandering to those forty year old cardboard boxes

Has never been easier.

—

My eyes melt onto the frying pan

Scrambled veins and toasted corneas

My pupils boil over.

Cooking for my beautiful husband

Who reads the newspaper:

“Local Woman Dies in Bathtub”.

“Now isn’t that sad?”

I flip my eyeballs,

They are crisp on all sides.

“Yes, it is.”

—

Picking at my guts for dinner.

I wanted peas and mashed potatoes.

The red slime sounds like macaroni and cheese.

Pretending food is other food has kept me full.

A picky eater versus…

An eater who picks at their food.

I eat to survive,

If I must bite at your legs, 

I must.

—

Rip out my tongue, Dionysus!

I, the mind;

A minuscule goddess of the graveyard.

Undertakers pray for a plentiful winter harvest

When the frostbite turns skin black

And the gunshot wound leaks sweet southern molasses,

I awake.