drain the blood motherfuckers
they passed me the note
"to the guy on the end:
drain the blood,
we want to hear it"
I want to try something different this time
I'm going to slice you on this side instead
exchange blade for brush and paint the town red
drain the blood motherfuckers
check the vein closely to verify inside information
the transmission fluid of coded messages
the transportation of the nourishment necessary
to supply the cells with enough energy
to make the motion
signal the change in direction
drain the blood
down a different tube
one which ends in a spigot
at the hospital where wounded monsters convalesce
fill the chalice from that sacred source
not with the cheap stuff spilled so frequently
rather the royal line
the blue stuff once so thick
now diluted and diminished
just dribbling drops
drain the blood motherfuckers
bodies collide
where they collect in the pit
the intricate intimate
slam dance of syringes and plungers
put this in the proper vein
a direct application of medication
drain the blood motherfuckers
with razors for wrists
and bullets for brain-cases
it takes too long for the pills to dissolve
work their way into the system
be transported to the destination
where the pain is felt most specific
the torn muscle tissue red with iron and oxygen
flexing in convulsions
the seizure of the moment
when we
drain the blood motherfuckers
how much more can I share
before I'm completely drained
the blood type
the genome
the hormone
the pheromone
the sidewalk splatter
where I fell so hard
that one time
when I leaped without looking
because life is too exciting
to consider the consequences
of the incomplete sequences
the missing mitochondrial information
static overwhelming the station
the transmission of this statement
direct in this command
drain the blood motherfuckers
here I am
no longer hiding
opening up for you
to show my heart
squeezed in shoving hands
it pulses to this day
pushes chemicals both ways
a perfect solution
solved in the slicing
the opening
the spilling
the splattering
we call it art
we call it autopsy
we call it exploring the inside
we call it as we see it
so we do it
drain the blood motherfuckers
meet me at the market
where you can find me hanging
dangling from that hook
skinned and prepared for the butcher's blade
ready to be filleted
to offer you the choicest cuts
with inner working exposed
following this single scent molecule
on the tip of the hound's nose
to where the trail grows cold
ends in circumstantial evidence
because the body has been
too cleverly disposed
drain the blood motherfuckers
pack my limbs in a suitcase
left beside the highway
at mile marker six six six
where the lip was split
as it kissed the fist
in a passionate blaze of crimson tears
and scarlet lost love letters
that scared and scarred prey
struggling against the fetters
the teeth of the trap
into which it innocently stepped
now quickly educated
on how the blood lust is satiated
as captive impatiently awaited
the return of the hunter
who left this device behind
with our sweet flesh on his mind
the making of meals for monster children
drain the blood motherfuckers
the one who listens hears
throbbing pulsing rushing in the ears
the noise will never cease
at last aware of steady rate or increase
we finally get the message
the meaning of that blood on the door
framing our freedom from death
displaying the dispelling of our debt
displacing the drops of liquid less thick
the replacing of fuel for the wick
we finally get it now
how could we not want more
anyway
anyhow
drain the blood motherfuckers
bite me
hard to break the surface
vultures or vampires or leaches
ticks and fleas
you play insect to my godhead
suck me off
into the abyss
eternal night
where the red light turns black
as the blood dries on the page
where we signed our names
agreed to the contract killing
drain the blood motherfuckers
feast on the meat that remains
an ample supply from the sounds of this
screaming in the dark
as the blood drains from faces
confronted by the horror
being honored with the honest answer
every rose must die
try not to bloom too soon
this garden a gift of the flesh
born with thorns to tear
scratching at the surface
finding the fresh artery
the death mask artistry
from the first drop
to the last splash
drain the blood motherfuckers
it's all I've got to give now
the platelets the plasm
that last dying spasm
final primal scream session
in death's bed confession
I murdered
to manufacture the martyr
because I thought
I was so much smarter
with this swelling in my brain
drain the blood motherfuckers
pass on dumb
hand down the death rattle
to the children at play
penned in cribs of old wood
stained red
with nails rusting
fingerprints for the dusting
every homeland a crime scene
every sequence a dream
morphing into nightmares
with the waking to reality
where the fresh stuff is the best stuff
and the demand is just insatiable
drain the blood motherfuckers
scribbling with hot knife and invisible ink
I wrote my life story in the flesh
carved across my chest to match
the marks of correction on my backside
drain the blood motherfuckers
because God is in the middle of her menstrual cycle
we only have to wait this out
while she screams
drain the blood motherfuckers
