Apologies

I can no longer provide
the pleasure of plunging
into my soul
and twisting the emptiness within
like strands of solitary entrails

I can no longer
be a vacuum
or a palpable matter
of a strange kind
mutated to accommodate
all that you demand of me

I can no longer
be a sponge
and absorb
blue bruises
and discoloured sperms

The handle is in your grasp
You can still penetrate deeper inside
with your cold steel blades
But my being has overflowed
Oozing out a dark liquid
And I am
As cold as your steel blades