Sometimes I need to blow off steam. Sometimes I do it just for fun. The hunt, the thrill of the catch. The Omnipotent grace that washes over me. Covers me as their blood covers me. It is perfection. An art of sculpting with my blade and painting their blood on a clean pure canvas that makes me realize just how perfect life can be. The feel of the cold metal placed in my hands as the warm blood pouring over my instrument. Washes over me as I create my ballad of pleasure and pain. The smell of fear and life fills my senses. As I bask in the glory of life as it slips thru my fingers one cut at a time. The sweet anguish of its cry’s as I empty the vessel of it life force. And when I am done I get to look at my finished master piece and know that I created the single most important even it its life. And no one will ever forget what I have done. The art I have created with my hands and my knife.
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