Who took your measurements?
The diameter of the jugular
nestled happily in your throat.
Who was it you watched fall
as you straddled Lucifer
and rode the goat?
Why was it you kept empty eyes?
Fled away with a gleeful grin
as you lifted up your skirt.
Why would you keep twisting his knife,
another turn of the screw,
when you knew how much it hurt?
A pack of hollow people,
in a, pact, like sardines
in a little tin.
Retained from meaning,
alive on the outside,
but dead within.
A loving couple live lovingly.
They have a loving baby together,
borne, straight into a wall.
The dashed its brains out
upon the cold bricks
and never had lived lovingly at all.
Image by Andy Chilton