Death Technician: Breach

 

 

 

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Sky Wikluh “Balcan Sex God”

 

 

 

 

Murder. Death. Kill
And not necessarily in that order
I’d think twice before bringing your sweet sixteen daughter to this particular slaughter
Such impressionable minds couldn’t hope to process such a bounty of sketchy excess as the one I propose this night
My very own keynote address
Followed by most unholy of sacrifice within my sterile altar

 

Got a freezer packed with dry ice to preserve any appendages
Your stay will be a short one, unless I arbitrate an extension that is
Now, I won’t pretend a first aid kit will even begin to address the flow
You see, there is no more dirty faced an angel than one hellbent on avenging
May well need that mop and bucket
All I’m saying
Makes sense to preempt an enthusiastic gusher as we will be getting drenched

 

Given that I’m a technician of death by trade
It’s imperative that I come good on the severance and cut straight to the chase
Set a befitting precedent
A benchmark for any interns to aspire to
Of course, you do have every right to decline to go quietly
Indeed, I’ll be encouraging your most impassioned chorus
You may well believe that your escape plan is flawless
But before you make a break for it I feel obliged to remind you that it really would be most unwise to

 

Puppets don’t do well without their strings
And a house of cards can tumble with nothing more than two well-placed snips
I take it you’re dependent on both Achilles tendons
As a bridge cannot stand without appropriate suspension
Just one of the numerous ways to tip the scales and get my kicks
So you’re goddamn right to be feeling that high tension

 

Plan to gut you like a pig you see
One long dragged out rut from your gullet to your gut
I’m a slut for the cutting and often in some way too deep
At 130 lbs you may consider me too weak to carve the marrow from sparrow
Let alone one of fuller physique
But here’s the thing
I’m solid muscle and learned to hustle the flesh from the bones of Grade-A meat
When plying my trade in butchery

 

O, how I ache for a nice bit of chewy gristle
Something for this meat connoisseur to sink her bloody teeth into
May have slipped my mind to mention that I desire to be eating soon
Not that I have any intention of not feeding you
That wouldn’t do at all
Besides, I could knock up a mean hot-pot overspilling with pieces of you
Perhaps a steaming soup from your entrails and grue

 

Any relation to the great Jack the Ripper is not purely coincidental
For a girl would be advised to study closely one of such spotless credentials
I have to come clean
That leather apron of his has proven somewhat influential
What can I say?
I’m a sentimental kinda gal
With a monumental hard-on for gore and a more than spiteful scowl

 

I see you’ve already thrown in the towel
How very quaint be your cower
Regrettably, it’s far too late for that now
For my design is to have you skinned, split and served within the hour
Please excuse the dour projection
Don’t mean to be austere
But I do go queer for vivisection and could do with a nice refreshing shower

 

Elizabeth Báthory had the right idea
But I’ve got a better one here
Thus, while your gargling screams may go in one ear and out the other
I’ll be sure to add them to the new playlist I’m compiling
I call it music for defilement
And happen to be a shameless slave to the rhythm
Sussed the left-right schism way back in eighth grade
Know which side of the divide I’m positioned

 

Before I go removing any superfluous viscera
What say we head direct to the exsanguination
March straight across the breadth of your peninsula
And apply that beating heart of yours a dash of irrigation
Drown it in the very fluids it pumps
Make it blush you know
See if we can get that red flag waving
I’m sure it’ll come around with a little delicate persuasion

 

You ever seen a great white breaching?
Well, my eyes are even blacker
And no shark could ever hope to hit the heights I’m reaching
As I reach in through your sternum
You may discern the pain increasing
Shattered ribs can tell no fibs
Just as black eyes like mine have no time for white lies
I guess giving really is more fun than receiving

 

At any rate, the time has now come to take your place on my disassembly line
And the pleasure really will be immensely mine
I regret to inform you that I shall not be going gently
Any struggles on your part will be very much temporary
As my demeanor may well be friendly
But just so you’re aware
While we’ve been chewing the fat I’ve been sharpening my carving knife the whole time
And I happen to favor my primal cuts bloody rare

 

 

 

 

Richard Charles Stevens

 

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

 

 

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