the rapture*

buried in your flesh
and writhing
beneath your folds,
there is a beating
in the dark

muffled behind muscle,
it calls to me
in short gasps,
as the cage that keeps you
[both cartilage and bone]
shakes in a whimpered effort
to unhinge itself

lost in the corporeal
labyrinth,
the heart shines
as dark as
stone

so i tear you open
to let the light in

your eyes keep open,
though tears fall,
for the window to your soul
must let the light in,
afterall

with muscles that hold
like marble,
there should be some light
in there,
afterall

poor Persephone,
i'm beating you to death;
but Demeter will have to wait
for this rapture
to end

with a heart of darkness,
i cut you open,
only to find the darkness
in there as well




* The Rape of Proserpine, sculpted by Gian Lorenzo Bernini. Photo taken by unknown photographer.
* This poem is dedicated to the victims of rape, especially to the women that I personally know who have experienced it. If it were up to me, I would have those men castrated and forced to eat their own dicks. And if there is a God out there, (if I am to pray to you) I pray that one of these days, you will face your own children and explain why you would allow such a horrible thing to exist in your world.