Should I conquer you in slow steps
Or a swift stroke of metal suffice?
You are my muse and my sculpture,
The reason of dried blood on my back.
The lines of passions drawn
By your pale hungry nails,
And mistress to an artist above you.
It is my intention to have you
By sleight of hand or otherwise,
Any means possible or even contrary.
I am waging a war on my own self
Unnecessarily to have you at once.
I know it can be easily avoided
For you are not worth a pittance.
However word uttered from my lips
Carries both clout and concealment.
So tell me my dearest
Would you like to come in pieces
Or should I order a king sized bed?