Sonnet XXI - Gore

He ran his fingers on her supple breasts

And singing softly, gently stroked her hair

While submissive she lay, curled in her dress

Which splattered red and melted with her flair

He slowly unbuttoned her, took her cloak

And turned around to light the dying flame

But ere he could, he felt a strangling choke

Dismembered, saw her naked gleeful frame.

A stream of blood ran down his broken nose

And bloodshot eyes burst out of gaping holes

His punctured lungs spewed moistened reddish prose

As he begged mercy, holding quivering bowles

She nailed it on the cross, his lifeless form,

And walked out smiling midst the raging storm