Poem #1: The Grindstone

Scrubbing scrub scrubbing scrubbing scrub scrub

scrub scrubbing scrub scrub scrub scrubbing

White flakes fall from above

Leaving a delicate dust on the lashes of the big brown sparkling eyes.

Whirling, descending, scrub scrub scrub

The stone leaves marks

Washes away the old, leaving room for re-birth

Catching flakes on the big wet tongue.

Scrubbingscrubscrub

Harder they fall

And the harder they fall the greater they fall

And the greater they fall the redder they become

And the redder they become the wetter they drop

And the wetter they drop the thicker, the heavier, they rip from the bone.

Grind grind grind grinding

The white flakes return

A dust settling on the black fur, soaked in blood

Grinding obsessive

Shrill cries, self inflicted cleansing rituals

Repeated on various parts of the body

Until the body is no more.

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