Hoarse

I scratch your back,
beginning to relax.
I tickle your armpits,
kissing your lips.
I crawl in your direction,
making you joyous.
But when I begin to cough,
you being to laugh.

I look at you as your spine grows high,
beginning to arch, your bones breaking out,
I tell you not a single lie.
But this kind of thing is what you will defy.

"I got yourself,
and you got me,
so why do you mess
with my sis, Bree?"

I shake my head
and cough out:
"I don't mess with her,
I just hang with her."

You pull out a knife,
jab it in my gut,
twisting it around,
moving in with your butt.
I am deprived of my clothes,
as you pull my cock at you,
scratching and scratching,
just like you always do.

I begin to pour blood,
as you begin to laugh again.
I look up at the sky,
as you pull my head back,
slitting my throat.

I finally catch my breath,
pulling your neck into me,
snapping it like a twig,
I wrap some cloth over my wounds,
as you lay there, with a broken neck.

I say, "What did you do?"
but have a hoarse voice,
then I reach for your knife,
stabbing your stomach,
ripping your kidneys and guts out.

You say,
"You can't kill me,
your hoarse throat is a sign of that."

I look, confusedly, and I begin to stab you countless times,
making at least twenty holes appear in your body.

I sigh and scream, "ARE YOU FUCKING DEAD NOW?"

You look at me and say, "No, honey,
your voice is still hoarse."