The Dirty Book Visual

As this pathetic man
blubbered before me
upon his knees
restrained with
cable ties
I asked myself
the question that’s
been throbbing in
my brain the past
three days…
what has he got
that I don’t?
He was short and fat
from where I stood
it seemed that his hair
was beginning to recede.
I wondered if my wife
had noticed this too.

I broke his ribs
he moaned.
I made myself
visualize them
indulging in sex acts.
I heard them moaning
I saw him running his
hand between her thighs
pulling his stumpy fingers
through her pubic hair.

I fractured his eye socket
he moaned.
I saw her going
down on him.
He held her head
like a fragile vase
carefully and slowly
thrusting his hips.

I smashed his teeth in
blood gushed
from his mouth.
He spat
she swallowed.
They proceeded…
I burst his eardrum
and tore off his clothes.
He flopped about
all over the place.
She gasped trying
to fathom how she
would fit it all inside.
He eased his way inside
she moaned and
he had this stupid grin
slapped on his face.
I broke his jaw.

I didn’t know what to do
I wanted to kill him
but I needed a plan.
He knew what
I was thinking.
When he tried to smile
he moaned.
I was hesitating
after today my life
could never be the same.
I had crossed the line.

Murder seemed too easy
I was confused
He could see this.
I was hurting
I felt betrayed
I was humiliated
I felt inadequate.
Regardless of my
own actions
I would be
deeply scarred
for the rest of my life.

I cut his hands free
and helped him
to his feet
propping him up
against the wall.
I assured him that
he was not
about to die
but my word would
only be honoured if
he rendered
an erection.
He looked confused.
I handed him
the dirty book
and turned away.

He roared through
a bloody mouth.
I bore the brunt
of a desperate man
driving me into
the crimson floor.
I pierced his heart
on impact.

On the ground
soaking up the flow
mopping up the floor
hopelessly pinned
beneath a fat naked
dead man whom inserted
himself into my wife.
I killed him.