Backstreet Bariatric
(Incest by Proxy)

you come into my office
the wheels of your rascal encrusted with sewage
you braved the terrain
to come visit me in the gutter of the city

I lay you down on the table
a puddle of blood and fat does not seem to phase you
prepare for the incision
slice open your gut with a rusty single edge razor blade.

your incision tears in a jagged line
stopping only at the staples I placed in the area I assumed your hip bones to be
your innards begin spilling onto the table.
so I attach the loose flaps of skin to a makeshift hook and pully system

I begin to dig through your seemingly endless
layers of fat, thick gelatinous spherical beads of
bloody tapioca pudding.
suspension system allows easy acess to your organs
remove your stomach tissue.
coterize you back together with my soldering iron

ch:
your wish is my command
mangle your flesh
I dine tonight
on what is left