SUCCESS

don't show me history.
give it my whole heart.
everything i do is because
mastics and oaks are different to cut through.

i had to fight someone with an axe.
i had to aim for places that would kill me.

what's a maid for. i don't know yet.
she grabbed the basket.
she packed a machete.
what will i have to do?

i love my country. i live here every night.
my country wants one thing from me:
the meat slack in the mouth of my decap.
now get out of my garden.

maybe i'll get to crush him with my foot
maybe i'll get to feel him screaming through the blade
without being indifferent to his language.

my mother wants me to fall in love
but it's my job to do this beheading.

yews and cloves are different thicknesses.
the truth might let me die
but it won't kill me.

i could run away yesterday.
for many years i'm a curiosity
striding dressed up at night to the camp.

"what's in the basket?"
when i get there it's full of sexy
expectations but there's actually nothing.

it's for your head.  it's so
i don't have to leave my fingers
in your hair
after i'm done cutting through your bones.

my country doesn't believe anything else
i do. my country might make me marry my rapist.
it puts in thumbscrews.

my dad showed me how to paint
but no one cares for like 400 years.

it's my beheading.
it's my beheading.

give me the knife i want my beheading
to take home with me.