Blood, Guts, and Petrichor

i'm sick in the head
i know this...

but when i see her down the
street
all that i can smell is
meat
and blood and guts and
petrichor
and pavements splashed with
brains and gore

but i control myself
barely...

then she walks down the empty
road
and by that time her pace has
slowed
now i'm not one to refute god's
plan
but, for now, i must,
and can

"Suit yourself, but the hunger's growing,"
it says...

i grasp my head when she comes to a
stop
then raise my knife and let it
drop
her skull spurts blood as my headaches
subside
and as i gut her, there flows a red
tide

the rain it hits her body
as in turn it hits the floor
and the pavement is stained
with blood, guts
and petrichor