She rushes at me out of the dark
naked and lovely
tattoo of a skull between her heaving breasts
I can’t touch her
turning away cursing
the skull having teeth and a flapping tongue
too much to drink I pee in my pants
running into the street I’m hit by a car
dragged underneath like a rag doll
waking in the hospital sown in stitches
the nurse and doctor leaving my room
shaking their heads as you-know-who
licks and nibbles at my wounds.
By Stephen Jarrell Williams
He is the editor of Dead Snakes at http://deadsnakes.blogspot.com/
Hey, Stephen, never suspected you for a writer of gore, but this poem says it all! Brilliant!