Something Inside
With an exasperated sigh
She reaches for the sky
Tools lay scattered
Piled high at her feet
In a day that seemed long
She had plucked
from humanities throng
A person she deemed
worthy of the word
Perfection
The sight of her walk
Her manners
Her talk
A stunning beauty
that all took time to admire
Fair of complexion
A body that begged
for further inspection
Curvacious in all the right places
Ogled by numerous turned faces
Sights that would play alongside lust
in many of tonight’s colorful dream
A whisper in her ear
“Could you help me my dear”
A moment’s attention was all that was needed
With use of chloroformed rag
her exquisite body suddenly sagged
Appearing like a faint
into the arms of a loved one
In the rear of the vehicle she lay
Drug effects holding her stay
A goddess motionless
in tight rope and restraint
Strapped to the emotionless table
not at all willing and able
to be part of an impromptu
and thorough investigation
Into the strange origins
of show stopping beauty
Be it strange that some
born with three thumbs,
cleft pallet,
or a birthmark in the shape of a country
Whilst others are blessed
Nothing but picturesque
Fit for naught but thoughts
filled with lust and the darkest of envy
Slicing flesh carefully
Sharp knife used deftly
Peeled back
the extremity of skin
Exposed rib cracked
With a heavy tool
thick and black
Displaying crimson organs
coiled tightly without string
Bone encasement is lifted
Through intestines
Vinyl clad hands sifted
Exploring for hidden wonders
Believed buried someplace within
No twinkle
No light
No aura in sight
Another beauty splayed open
in exhausting quest of the specific thing
An ageless anomaly that makes Gods sing,
and mortals fall to their knees in prayer
The aorta is severed
The heart is tethered
and put aside
for later culinary use
Next the bone saw
covered in cord
unwound it will feast
upon tender cranium
Luxurious locks
without love
are cut
and shorn off
Discarded like trash
as if out of season
Powerful whirr of steel blade
leaves a clear trail in its wake
and sends bone shrapnel in every direction
The skullcap lifts to display lurid dish
the beauties brains have now become
Nothing in here
That much is clear
Another cavity cleared in the search
A smile tilts the lips
Leading to laughter in fits
A wicked embalmer or
Mortician
She most defiantly is not
Though she is on a mission
With the main puzzle piece missing
One that’s very vital to the plot
Some would call her insane
She firmly believed finding the lost piece
would mean that she was not
Cult