@legiate
“ how terrible. ” darkened under—eyes barely look up, fixated on the cut of meat. (i would consume you, beyond the bones.) brutality under a domestic guise, a macabre fantasy of housewives; equally bound to each other in an impossibility of escape. neither can leave, neither can stay. she is the rivers daughter, unable to escape the reeds tangled around her legs no matter how inland she goes. a loin cut, something she normally passes over but tonight is a special occasion & she’ll pry back the rib—bones and ready them to soak into a broth later.
the viscera is still caught under her fingernails, the mangled remains curled into the corner of their shed. an immaculate façade, no one is looking past the white picket fence or neatly cut lawn into their pastel suburbia hellscape. (two predator animals cannot stay in the same enclosure. one will turn on the other. it is a matter of time.) and you'd let her. as long as she promised to eat all of you. the knife is placed to the side, by the skin. she’s sat through enough cross—contamination lectures. the maddening brutality living in their walls, bruising their house through rot and seeping from the trees in red sap. the violence cannot be separated from them. “ isn’t is so lucky that you met me then? how terrible to live like that. ” mortification in pictures that plaster their walls, splashed art that cost more then her car. two people, two things living. her blood clots like the pipes in the cold, slathering layer after layer of paint over the mold in the corner like a budget motel but the foundation cracks remain.
i’ll kill you. or you’ll kill me. this house is too hungry to sustain us both. “ and you’ll never be free of me. we’re forever. ”













