to him
every hole
in a woman’s body
is an invitation to violence
ears are for filling with bile
the mouth is for gagging
the tongue will scream until it is cut out
lips for splitting with fists
the sex organ and anus
interchangeable
meant only for acts of desecration
in the temple
the stench of his sickness
mixing with old lady perfume
filling your nose
as he guts you
his final act
waxing romantic
about telling his mother
“I hope you get cancer of the eyes”
as your bride of frankenstein flesh dies
left to rot in the square
for all the pitch fork and torch bearing
townspeople to behold
yet he is overjoyed
with his trophies left behind
some red nail polish
a few lipsticks
and our clothing
hanging carcasses
in his meat locker closet
as he made sure all of us wore
his perfect dress size