I see you from across the patine floor.
Marbled with the most perfect illusion.
I can see my reflection making my way across the room.
I look up at you, I cannot loose focus.
Straining almost, to see your blond hair.
The paintings on the wall seem to spin.
I feel almost dizzy by the rush, You slowly walk past me,
I try not to make the obvious. I smell your skin from a distance.
"sweet aroma"
I cannot wait to slide my blade across it.
I silence my breathing as you stand next to me.
Eyes alluring,
not suspecting a thing.
Blue eyes gaze up at the portrait.
My eyes focused on you.
My work of art, How soon you will be my canvas.
Your footsteps Pound as you walk away.
Stiletto heels surface the marbled floor.
I follow you from afar, not to make myself seen.
The room is now crowded, but you are the only one I see.
Starving artist dance around the pastel colored sheets
Seep into each perfectly drawn work of art.
You pace the room,
My heart thumping, sweat rolling off my face.
As you make your way past the last group of paintings.
I follow behind like a dog in heat.
Twitching my fingers, waiting for the moment alone.
I have been studying you for weeks.
Each new craving built by the stacks.
My mouth becomes parched, my nerves eat at my soul.
This young art student just what I need to break desire.
You open the double doors
sliding your leather back pack onto your shoulder.
My heart weakens. My veins pulsating.
I touch the handle where your hand met.
I close my eyes imagining what is to come.
The moon surfaces down on the street
blocking the light from the alley.
I see you making your way around the building.
The crowd is getting smaller as the time ticks later.
This is it, you are all alone. digging through your purse.
I start to breathe harder
searching my pocket for the chloroform rag.
"Can I be of assistance" I ask you so suave , such a gentleman.
You look up at me,
teeth forming across your lips as you began to smile.
yes smile
for not long i will be removing each one of them pearly whites.
I walk up behind you, I can tell you are weary, you turn to speak.
I lash out at you grasping the handkerchief over your beautiful lips
You tumble down the car, I have to catch my breath.
Once you awake all you see is black.
Your body shaking, hyperventilating.
I walk pass your body, hands and feet strapped down.
I can see your head trembling from under the black cloth.
You my canvas nude and pure.
I look over on the table
covered with my choice of selective tools.
My brushes as you would have called them.
This room always brings back such sweet fantasy's
I used to dream about,
Locked away, until I unleashed them into reality.
The room so Dark, Rusty and bloody.
I pull the cloth off your beautiful face.
tears cover it as you scream out from behind the tape.
I take my hand and slide it across your skin,
leather glove tingles your cheeks forming chills up your arm.
I grab my first utensil,
a scalpel.
you see me handling the metal with care.
You start to moan out,
I move it closer touching the blade to your neck.
you close your eyes as the vein starts to twitch.
I push the blade in harder
your blue eyes open wide looking up in desperation.
I take it down your soft pale skin
watching the blood run slowly out of the wound,
you thank me with a shrill shriek.
My next attempt of this art piece
would be the magnificent wire cutters.
I spread them apart, then place them on your perfect fingers.
These hands have painted many beautiful pieces before.
You throw your head back
and yell out for you know what is in store.
I look at you and smile hastily,
clench down hard you almost come out of the chair.
your finger falls to the floor, followed by a gush of blood
"stop, please" you spit out at me.
I shush you and rub the back of your head.
Then I knew what would fill my canvas to the peak of beauty
you are becoming faint losing so much blood
still well aware as to what is happening next.
BUZZ goes the drill
you whilst yourself around trying to get away from it.
I touch it to your beautiful shaped face,
tearing through skin and bones.
you convulse
and the red of the blood mixes with blue eyes and blond hair.
such sweet destruction as you gulp in your last few breaths.
flames engulf as any evidence of this turns to ashes
There sets my beautifully structured canvas
Plastered in the chair with the blood slowly drying
And my hall of fame is now complete
I am proud of this beautiful work of art.
Gold trophy winner
Honorable mention
Adding your comment:
A fine piece of art (pun intended) The imagery is truly disturbing and macabre. The only thing I would say is the beginning was a little long, the suspense and build up were awesome but I would have liked to have seen a little less of that and a little more torture. Of course that is purely my own taste, and whacked out mind 
