Perfect Madness

It takes only minutes , though it feels so much longer . The tip of my blood-bathed knife swims through her still-warm flesh ... and then my fingers plunge , prying into the seeping blood and the coils of her intestines . And oh ! The way they twist and trail across my palms and loop invitingly around my thumbs !

Pull ! Pull them right out . There’s a fitting collar for a lady . Let them fall ... She looks richer in the crimson tangles of her own flesh than a duchess in gold and ermine , even as the blood stains her graying skin ... I could almost love her !

Why did I let her kiss me ? Her lips are fading now ... There – a little blood to color them again .

Her face ... Alive . I can see it again . And another face . I know her . It’s ...

No, don’t look !

Reaching back in , my hands explore the wall of smooth muscle that shields her spine , fingers twisting in nerves and tendons and breaking , spilling arteries .

That’s right ... Forget that face !

In the dark I feel the soft , slick liver , the firm kidneys ... I think I’d like a kidney . I’d like to see if her innards taste as nice as they feel ... Yes , I would like a kidney !

Lower , much lower down in the void left of her lovely corpse , is the piece I wanted . There ! My hands wrap around it , making sure I’ve really got it . A woman’s a puzzle you know ... So many pieces ... I would hate to be wrong . I draw the knife almost gently across the connecting tissues , and the puzzle’s womanhood floats free in my hands ...

I slip the prize into my coat pocket , still feeling the bloody flesh , as I stand to look at her ... She’s beautiful , with her pale skin exposed to the dark ... She’s perfect !

How can I be mad and create perfection ?