Spray and shave, the rat awaits.

Vermin spied on the wall, rendered in unnatural proportions.

Bring it to me.

A tiny rake of needles flicks to taste the air, traces of antiseptic and Vaseline.

Tiny wells of grey, black and vermillion hold tight to the popsicle stick.

Clear film stands guard,

On watch for the most hepatic of seas.

Run Capital C, with your staph in hand.

The pale living sheet bounces beneath the electric jabs, each hop plants a bloom of hue.

Purple fault lines quake and become dark,

Dark and Permanent.

Spray and wipe.

Histories scratched in scroll.

The maker’s hand drags the machine with precision across the winter plain.

Muscles tense beneath; they kick to breach.

Stretching the horizon, nitrile fingers spread the pores for hypersonic stabs.

Spray and wipe.

A dead-cold naked tail connects furry darkness to desperate paws with tips that cut.

Spray and wipe.

The profile of a broken-bottle muzzle gapes in silent protest to the living prison.

Golden teeth in a fallen mouth, the festering stare now ever present.

Spray and wipe and wipe and wipe.

Talks of aftercare and monies exchanged.

Keep said rat out of view of the sun for two weeks and baby the beast in cocoa butter.

Featured Image Credit: Nikolett Emmert / Unsplash