EXPERIMENTATION

Loading us onto trucks, they haul us from the camps. They strap Marie and I to metal beds after they strip us naked. Lights blind us as the German doctors ready for the experiments.
I reach to hold her hand, but she is too far away. She looks to me, her sight melted away from the several chemical injections.
A doctor takes his knife to my skin. They give me nothing for pain, yet they start to hollow me out. During the anguish I watch for seconds at a time. They remove large portions from inside my pelvis.
When they are done they scoop my insides into a bucket, and sew my stomach up.
After the operation she whispers.
"They will pay." She nods slowly, and then turns away from me. I am sure she could see me just then.
That night a fire starts in the laboratory. Marie has not left my side, but I am sure it was her who started it.
Weak from surgery, I cannot run. We sit and wait until the fire eats around our cell.
In the morning we are unscathed, and find ourselves free from the roar of barbed wire.

HARLOT'S FEAST

The Harlot perched atop the pickup. Her skin impish and her mouth razors. Her talons clawed into the roof, daring to rip through if provoked. Pivoting atop, the tuck rocked back and forth as she let forth a cry.
I screamed at Nat to run, but he just stood and stared at her; the Harlot's wiley gaze griping him. She came forth, bloodshot eyes first, glaring in the night. She spoke latin to us. Grasping nothingness in the air, she coaxed Nat to step forward. Creening her neck and licking her lips, the Harlot sang to him in dead lullabies.
"Mors Vinet. Vocat illa." She whispered to him, slowly engulfing him in her wings. I had no choice but to run, to leave him there in the mud and trees. Leave her to feast on him.
As soon as I reached the truck, I heard her wisp around to stop me. Before I could open the door she had me slammed against the metal, my teeth bleeding.
"Stultus puer." She purred into my ear.
Opening my neck, she reached her arm inside and grasped my heart.

FLOATER

The pond water leaked from her mouth. It was the color of urine, and trickled down her neck. She flicked her tongue at me, hissing and splashing the water to try and frighten me. The cotton dress she wore was soaked, and her breasts were exposed through the fabric. I kept my concentration on her though, this withering girl was no more than bones. She'd be sick from cold soon.
"Molly, you have to come back inside."
"MAKE ME." The voice said through her. Her body collapsed, dunking down below the surface just as if she were lost.
I rushed in after her.

THUG LIFE

Motor cycle brine, you greasy thug.
His name is Shiloh, he is watching.
Inside he burns, insdie he waits.
Gunpowder sits on his lap, his mistress.
Smoke composes symphonies in his lungs.
He's getting high again.
He could be death, if it were.
A stranger.
Let him in your home, know him well or not at all.
The soft slither of his eyes can kill a man.
His hands, full of filth, etched with time and ink.
He reads aloud a bible all his own.
A will of sorts.
The leather worn across his shoulder's sighs.
"Come the mighty, Come the tall,
Death casts his spell on all.
Man may come, but will perish.
Up to him what he should cherish."
A joint burns out on the table.
The smell of sorrow turns him slowly to sleep.