“If they caught you,
long enough for me
to see that face again,
maybe I would know
I could stop calling you ‘the rapist,’
and start calling you John or Luke or Paul.
I want to make my hatred large and whole.
If they found you, I could take
those solid red balls and slice them
separately off, as everyone watched.
I have already planned what I would do
for a pleasurable kill, a slow, soft, ending.
I would kick hard and straight with a boot,
into you, stare while you shot quick and loose,
contents a bloody pink hue.
I would slice out your tongue,
You couldn’t curse or scream.
Only a face of pain would speak
For you, your thick ingnorance through.
Should I hack away those sweet
Cow eyes with the glass blades you made
Me lie down on? Or should I shoot, with a gun,
Close into the knee; where they say
The cap shatters immediately?
I picture you now,
Your fingers rubbing sleep from
Those live blind eyes, while I rise restlessly.
I need the blood of your hide
On my hands. I want to kill you
With boots and guns and glass.
I want to fuck you with knives.
Come to me, Come to me,
Come die and lie, beside me
Conviction by Alice Sebold