The first strike knocks me down.
I choke, tasting blood as it froths in my mouth--
even the clouds blur together, shuddering as another blow comes
and rattles my bones; I am numb and I feel like I cannot
Feel and this terrifies me more than the pain ever will.
Reconstruct it she hisses as she watches me fall.
In her hands are the necessary tools:
the cleaver, the rope, the ax, the gun;
she beckons me closer.
Take it she whispers.
No, I cannot, and I regret it at once because chemicals
choke me and I fall deeper into the flask
hydrogen fluoride cutting my marrow until
I dissolve and the only part left is the
chunks of my flesh, clinging desperately to the
roots of my hair
This kinda scared me. And I thought about death and violence the whole thing. I don't know if you were aiming for that, or what... but I kinda liked it. Nice work.