You wouldn't be so keen
To read the stories inscribed
Into each crooked branch of my spine
If you knew how far
You would have to go.

But by all means, go ahead if you must:

Blacken my hair right down to my skull,
Dig your nails into my scalp
And prise apart my head.
Peel back my smiling face;
Let my eyes sink to the ocean floor.

Unfurl the flesh from my bones
Then sever every vein.
Splice every muscle in two
And remember to drain away
What is left of my blood.
Drink it, inject it,
If you must.

Claw your way through my ribcage
And close your fist around my heart;
Cease its pumping and tear it in half,
Making sure to break a few bones
As you wrench it from its home.

Then rip out my stomach,
Let my guts spill on the floor –
You'll slip on them later,
Trying to support a rattling skeleton
With no form.

Now strip back the bone
To find the ink at the marrow
And feast your bloody eyes on my secrets.

Meanwhile, the desecrated, mutilated parts of me
Will be hoping they were worth it.