Bleached blood.

I cut the film, slice by slice.

The scissors glide along like skates on ice.

Sliver and slice goes my knife.

Kneecaps pop as my knife slides in, down these shins with many grins.

Drip drop I hear the clock.

tick tock. Tick tock.

Nerves are rushing whilst even my blood is gushing.

Through my veins is flows, flowing and incased.

Here we go as the lovers play blade by blade while they watch us fade.

The sweat beads upon thy forehead with the rush of rouge to thy cheeks thickening.

I can hear thy bones cracking out of fear. The piercing ring in my ear.

I douse in bleach.

Running my fingers through their pooling blood, vibrant red, pretty pictures dance beneath my fingers in my head.

I mix the bleach. I mix thy blood with whim with these delicate fingertips. Dancing. Dancing.

Prettiest of reds, inanimate beauty on the tips of my fingers. Warmth.

Their blood rushing, gushing to their skin surface. Pumping through their veins ever more. Their heart sickens with gasping palpitations. Skin fading oh so white while I dance the dance of bleach into their blood upon my delicate finger tips, like silk it disperses as these fingers glide like the blade I sliced so cleanly through thy skin, my fingertips dance the dance of bleach through your skin.

Let me detach whilst I attach and caress my hand around your beating heart.

I rip it through your rib cage in a thirst of rage. I stitch your aorta to my palm. I feel your warmth beneath me, around me, touching me. I watch my fingertips dance so softly across ones chin and lips, up thy cheekbone. Pretty blood you have. I never new how rich and pure it would be until I danced the dance with thee.

The bleach, I take by the fingertip to thy face and across thy lips I sew. I stare in to those now so dull eyes you forced me to fall upon. Don’t cry darling for I will bathe in your blood once I am done.

Fall upon my blade in my mind for the sweet slices I make and grind.

Those limbs and lips so soft. What a shame it would be if I cut them off.

I promise I would not. But I will make you dance the dance with me.

Bereaved I make and slice those pretty elegant patterns in thee skin. With my blade that I will never have succumb to the outside shade. Tactful and tasteful the lace petals I etch in the skin. I’ll make them pure and white once I’m done bleaching them. Soft by stroke, hand and poke, here comes the night again.

When I touch the tip to your skin I feel the electric buzz of a tattoo gun. Euphoria and pleasure I am stunned, I breathe a depth of copper so sweet and warm that I feel your veins intertwine with mine.

The melody of the piano across the room sinks into my skin as I dance the blade so preciously into your skin.

You know the sun feeling upon your skin in dusk of an early autumn evening? The way the sun falls coolly upon those blades of grass the way my blade falls upon and into your skin?

Taste the earth as drag you, inhale the essence of Mother Nature. Breathe in the life you’re grasping for as I dance the dance of the blade within.

In the blender you shall go while I immerse myself within your glow.

This is why I sleep, sleep so soundly under the blanketed night sky. This is how soundly I sleep under a blanketed sky full of blood.

Drowning in the warmth, dousing in the bleach, swimming through those eyes swallowed by death.

Skin to skin, scalpel edge against the softness of your skin.

So softly it glides. Deeper.

I trace my blade from lips to toes, drawing pretty pictures while my fingers follow.

Come dance with me, dance with me in my bleach.

How grace guides my dancing blade dabbed with bleach. I will not halt when they all screech.

Dance the dance of my blade within.

Under thy kneecaps we let it sink in.