Enveloped in virtue
and an illusion of order,
it sits unmoving - but alert-, and hunched over,
ready to smother his facade.
Cracking its neck like the hands on a clock,
in fading patience, its clammy palms
clench matted red hair slicked in
oil of berserk.
Kill the pig.
Crouching, crawling, lurking tiger,
unmoving, save for shifting blue eyes.
It too shifts its sunken eyes,
but its boney body twitches violently
with bloodlust.
Cut her throat.
Gleeful and seething with
sadistic brutality.
It curls its branch fingers into tight fists
and thrusts downwards at the pig's throat,
at the last of his facade.
Spill her blood.
Cackling now, it dances
around the bonfire of primeval desires.
Clammy hands now drenched in swine blood,
he succumbs to savagery.
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