Ankle slitter

 The man was sooty now,
five hours under the car,
he had just lied there
and choked on exhaust cloud blues

His leather pants and jacket skimmed and scratched, 
against the coarse concrete floor.
But he didn't care, he almost drifted off.
Every canter of footsteps would awaken him fresh.

He dreamed of an achilles heel severed
and was willing to wait the whole day.
Just to see the flesh above the high heel or boot open
and over the pale gray tarmac spill.

Then he would covort with himself,
between the chasis and the concrete.
The deepest sense of fiendsish freak.
As the man or woman fell and on impact coming face to face.

The responsible for their undeserved pain.
As one wrythed in shock and pain.
The other in strange deranged pleasure,
before rolling out redfaced and bushwhacked.

Getting on his motorcycle and riding back to his cabin near a slum.