The Doctor, Part 15

Outside my body,

speckled on my skin,

the warmth of my own blood is a blanket

so flay me, 

you fuck,

the way Karloff 

slices up Lugosi

in the end of “The Black Cat,”

slice me 

with those ten thousand 

small cuts,

reach down my throat

and rip up my insides,

shove a pencil into my urethra

and break it,

smash my innards,

pummel 

my soft parts,

waterboard me 

with lightshafts of radiation

until I tire you down

because

I can take it,

I can take it,

I can take it

with a smile

that says 

I have never wanted so badly to feel my fingers around a throat

and I’ll beg even once:

please, 

don’t take

my daughter’s father

because the universe

will never forgive me.

 

You can read the complete Doctor series here.