Living Art.

Chained and bound, you struggle
to escape, but all you do is
tighten you restraints;
I laugh at your pain and listen to
your screams-
the sweet sound ringing in my ears.

I grab a knife from a steel cart, and
press it to your pale skin, watching
beads of blood escape. I draw the knife
slowly, cutting precise marks and taste
the blood that runs across.

You scream again and I cut deeper, loving
the feel of the power I have over you; my
choice if you live or die.

I stop cutting, only to admire the art
I've drawn in your flesh, and
I smile at your heavy breathing; you know this
isn't the end- not for a long time.

I put the knife down and leave the room
laughing, but I'll return again. I'll come back,
and add to my living art.