they laughed, they took a bite out of his shoulder, chewed on it, thought it over. they spat it back in his face. not enough, they said, you’re worthless, you’re spittle after a meal. you’re our urine after we take a shit. you’re the cum we forget to wipe off that dries down the length of our thighs.

they took turns, they tickled him until he bled, until snot came out of his nose in thick drabs of bloody mucus. he cries, they said, look, he cries like a monkey without his banana. they ran a nail along his scrotum, a testicle bled out. just like a monkey, they said and with a thin pinky fished out the other one. they skinned his penis to dab their mouths.

and when they began to separate the ribs off his spine, plucking them as they went along, as if they were listening for a tune, he was relieved that the choice had been his, that whatever laid ahead the second after they reached over and pierced his sternum, was his and his alone.