You are mine.
The hand that touches you.
I shall cut the fingers at the knuckles with a blunt saw. Pick each finger, with its hanging flesh and write on the sandy rough walls of time with the oozing blood. You are mine. Nobody touches you.
The eyes that stare at you.
I shall gouge the eyes with a broken plastic spoon. Pickle them in acid till they swell, squash them with studded boots like roaches from gutter and leave them on floor as slime. You are mine. Nobody stares at you.
The tongue that flirts with you.
I shall pull the tongue till the navel, guts to touch the roof of mouth. Shred with razor blades and roll red hot steaming iron bars. When dried like dog skin leather, with polish it will shine. You are mine. Nobody flirts with you.
The ears that listen to your whispers.
I shall chop the ears with vengeful slashes. Pierce a thorny sliver through and roast them so slowly on fires from the hell of my heart. Till the juices ooze out and they get burnt smokey brown. You are mine. Nobody listens whispers from you.
The nose that smell your fragrance.
I shall slice the nose and mince with sledge hammer. Add some salt and in its own blood it shall rot. Till it turns gooey gray and smell like rotten swine. You are mine. Nobody shares the fragrance off you.
Baby you are mine and only mine.