My Cardboard Balcony

You Slay Me by Belinda Roddie Undress me with your eyes; my clothes will fall in ashes to the floor. My skin is stained like the table that you push me into. You conquer me, dominate me, and do everything hard and quick, not even giving me enough time to exhale before you're out the door, your tail dragging behind you. You are a dragon sowing your teeth across my ribcage. You shed your scales but still protect your hoard of gold. I see it glittering against your tongue. You broke off your incisors biting down on a blade of stone. The warrior wielding it screamed when you laughed through the waterfalls of blood. I have entered your lair more than once, and it is minimalist, but cold. The portrait of the charred knight hangs over our heads, a deep fried corpse in oil on canvas. If you let your claws get too close, you scratch me easily, but since your lips already burn me, I cannot feel the pain - my lungs are cauterized.

All right, you slick bastard. Here's how it's going to go down. I've got three bullets left in my revolver. Now, you might think I'll save the other two and just land the third right in the center of your forehead so the front of your face splits open like a watermelon. Nuh-uh. I'm going to use every single one of these sluggers on you. The first, I'll put into your knee. Second, I'll stick right in your left lung. And then, while you're inhaling and exhaling clotted blood, I'll use the last Musketeer right on your sweet spot - you'll love it.