Stubby fingers, like chicken fingers on your cheek

And you move to push them away. They’re turning

Into claws now, sharp as needles, thin as silk

Against your skin. You could say he’s driving

Pointed pencils right into you. You could say

He’s prodding at your soul, he’s flying through your blood

Like some Tasmanian devil on a roll. And when he

Takes away the fingers, he takes away your life.