An Iron Maiden for You

Some days (most days) I feel like
I could lock you in an iron maiden,
collect your blood in a cup, drink it,
digest it, filter it into my own
blood stream so that maybe, just maybe,
I could have some sort of vauge concept
of what it's like to be you.

So I could try to understand that
arrogant smile on you face,
So I could get to the guts of that
cocky attitude that makes me want to
saw off your head with rusty barbed wire,
jerk off down your severed throat,
sew  your head back on and watch you choke on me.

Then, maybe if that doesn't satisfy my curiosity,
If you reasons aren't up to snuff,
I would unlock your perforated, wretched carcass,
Let you fall to my feet and cover you in piss
made from you own blood.