Visions from a Diseased Mind #2: Fun with Barbed Wire

Visions from a Diseased Mind #2: Fun with Barbed Wire (Part 1: The Husband)

Some kind of drug-induced fog.
A haze perhaps.
Aware but not quite aware.
Somewhat weak and limp.
Somewhat cloudy mind.
Somewhere out West.
A dusty, sunny day.
Warm summer air and blue skies.
Big Sky Country,
Ranch Country,
Suffering Country.
An old rusty fence
Along an isolated highway.
A fence made of twisted old
Weathered wood posts
And three lines of rusty barbed wire.
You're speeding down the road
In a beaten pickup truck
With your two captors.
One of them,
The tall, skinny, bearded one,
Is driving.
The other,
The bald, sunburned, toothless one,
Has a shotgun trained on the base of your skull.
The driver pulls the truck over close to the fence.
Too close.
He gets out and walks to the passenger side
With a roll of duct tape.
He opens your door, buckles your seatbelt,
And tapes your left hand to your body.
He rolls down the window
Before slamming the door shut again.
He extends your hand,
Makes you grab the top line of the barbed wire fence,
And duct tapes your hand closed in a fist.
Taking his seat behind the wheel,
He slowly moves the truck forward.
The rusty barbed wire instantly chews
Into the soft flesh of your hand.
The tall, skinny, bearded man
Pounds the gas,
And the truck lurches forward.
Your hand tears apart
As bits of bloody meat are left dangling from the old fence.
Just before getting to the next post,
The driver slams on the brakes,
And throws the truck in reverse.
Your finger bones are torn apart,
The sinews left in tatters,
The fence eats through the duct tape
And your arm recoils into the truck.
What used to be your hand is just a bloody stump.
With this completed, the men drive you to a shack
Deep in the woods
Where no one can hear you scream.
The suffering has only just begun...

You come to a clearing,
A clearing around a shack.
On the ground are various bits of barbed wire,
Each about a foot long.
But perhaps the most dreadful,
A tree trunk,
About 18 inches in diameter and about six feet long,
Lying on the ground,
A chain attached to one end,
Shackles chained to a standing tree near the other.
This tree trunk,
This dreadful tree trunk,
Is wrapped in barbed wire.
...Of course...
The men lead you to the tree trunk
And rip off your clothes.
The tall, skinny, bearded man
Lifts the chained end of the tree trunk.
The chain drags across the dusty ground.
The men position you in a bear hug position
Around the tree trunk.
Arms and legs.
The barbed wire digs into your torso.
Your left hand is duct taped to your right wrist,
And your feet are shackled together.
The bald, sunburned, toothless man
Pushes the trunk back to the ground.
Your forearms and ankles are snapped with the force.
The tall, skinny, bearded man
Attaches the chain to the back bumper of the truck,
Climbs inside,
And guns the engine.
Your eyes grow wide.
The chains tighten.
The tree trunk gets ripped from beneath you.
Your torso, neck, arms, and legs
Are torn raw by the rusty assault.
The men flip you over to survey the damage.
Most of your skin is gone.
You can see your ribs.
Your dick is split in two...
The long way.
Your nutsack is gone,
Destroyed,
Shredded.
Your balls are hanging free in the air.
Freeballing!
The sunburned man turns you back onto your stomach.
The dirt sticks to your bloody body.
He takes a barbed-wire-wrapped broom handle
And shoves it deep in your ass.
He twists it and turns it
In and out.
Your asshole is left tattered.
Shit and blood drip from the broom handle.
The tall, skinny man takes it
And puts it in your mouth
For you to suck on like a lollipop,
Then he rams it down your throat.
You're deep-throating your own sodomized ass.
You gag and vomit.
With the makeshift buttplug still in your mouth,
The mixture of shit, blood, and vomit
Exits your nose.
You suffocate until the man removes the dildo
And lets you lie on the ground briefly,
Sucking for air.

The men pick you up
And carry you into the shack.
They prop your almost-lifeless body
Onto a wooden kitchen chair.
They wrap barbed wire around you
To keep you upright.
Your asshole
Leaks
Shit and blood
On the chair.
The men insert a length of barbed wire
Through each of your cheeks and into your tongue.
The bald, sunburned man
Holds your testicles on the chair
While the other man pounds a dull, rusty nail through each one
With a BALL!-peen hammer.
A small white trickle of sperm
Emerges like ejaculate from the holes in your balls
And mixes with the shit and blood
Already on the chair.
You vomit again.
Your balls strain at the nails,
Tearing oblong holes in themselves.
The chair is covered with a fetid concoction
Of blood, sperm, shit, and vomit
That dribbles to the floor.
The men leave you there to go get your wife...

Visions from a Diseased Mind #2: Fun with Barbed Wire (Part 2: The Wife)

Some kind of drug-induced fog.
A haze perhaps.
Aware but not quite aware.
Somewhat weak and limp.
Somewhat cloudy mind.
Somewhere out West.
A dusty, sunny day.
Warm summer air and blue skies.
Big Sky Country,
Ranch Country,
Suffering Country.
An old rusty fence
Along an isolated highway.
A fence made of twisted old
Weathered wood posts
And three lines of rusty barbed wire.
You're speeding down the road
In a beaten pickup truck
With your two captors.
One of them,
The tall, skinny, bearded one,
Is driving.
The other,
The bald, sunburned, toothless one,
Has a shotgun trained on the base of your skull.
The driver pulls the truck over close to the fence.
Too close.
He gets out and walks to the passenger side
With a roll of duct tape.
He opens your door, buckles your seatbelt,
And tapes your left hand to your body.
He rolls down the window
Before slamming the door shut again.
He extends your hand,
Makes you grab the top line of the barbed wire fence,
And duct tapes your hand closed in a fist.
Taking his seat behind the wheel,
He slowly moves the truck forward.
The rusty barbed wire instantly chews
Into the soft flesh of your hand.
The tall, skinny, bearded man
Pounds the gas,
And the truck lurches forward.
Your hand tears apart
As bits of bloody meat are left dangling from the old fence.
Just before getting to the next post,
The driver slams on the brakes,
And throws the truck in reverse.
Your finger bones are torn apart,
The sinews left in tatters,
The fence eats through the duct tape
And your arm recoils into the truck.
What used to be your hand is just a bloody stump.
With this completed, the men drive you to a shack
Deep in the woods
Where no one can hear you scream.
The suffering has only just begun...

You come to a clearing,
A clearing around a shack.
On the ground are various bits of barbed wire,
Each about a foot long.
But perhaps the most dreadful,
A tree trunk,
About 18 inches in diameter and about six feet long,
Lying on the ground,
A chain attached to one end,
Shackles chained to a standing tree near the other.
This tree trunk,
This dreadful tree trunk,
Is wrapped in barbed wire.
...Of course...
The men lead you to the tree trunk
And rip off your clothes.
The tall, skinny, bearded man
Lifts the chained end of the tree trunk.
The chain drags across the dusty ground.
The men position you in a bear hug position
Around the tree trunk.
Arms and legs.
The barbed wire digs into your torso.
Your left hand is duct taped to your right wrist,
And your feet are shackled together.
The bald, sunburned, toothless man
Pushes the trunk back to the ground.
Your forearms and ankles are snapped with the force.
The tall, skinny, bearded man
Attaches the chain to the back bumper of the truck,
Climbs inside,
And guns the engine.
Your eyes grow wide.
The chains tighten.
The tree trunk gets ripped from beneath you.
Your torso, neck, arms, and legs
Are torn raw by the rusty assault.
The men flip you over to survey the damage.
Most of your skin is gone.
You can see your ribs.
Your tits are gone.
Skinned.
Two raw fillets,
Two small masses of bloody mush.
A sadistic mastectomy
The sunburned man turns you back onto your stomach.
The dirt sticks to your bloody body.
He takes a barbed-wire-wrapped broom handle
And shoves it deep in your ass.
Another he shoves into your fearful cunt.
A barbed wire D.P.
He twists them and turns them
In and out.
Your asshole is left tattered.
Shit and blood drip from one broom handle.
Your cunt is left gaping.
A barbed wire tampon.
One stops rancid vaginal blood;
One starts the flow.
The tall, skinny man takes another wrapped broom handle,
Your husband's toy,
And puts it in your mouth
For you to suck on like a lollipop,
Then he rams it down your throat.
You're deep-throating your own husband's sodomized ass.
Three holes filled!
A barbed wire gang bang!
You gag and vomit.
With the makeshift buttplug still in your mouth,
The mixture of shit, blood, and vomit
Exits your nose.
You suffocate until the man removes the dildo
And lets you lie on the ground briefly,
Sucking for air.

The men drag you to the shack
By the two broom handles.
The wire has eaten through the walls
Of your ass
And your cunt,
And they're twisted together
Deep inside you.
After a little pushing and pulling and twisting,
The handles release their grip
And are torn unmercilessly out.
They prop your almost-lifeless body
Onto a wooden kitchen chair.
They wrap barbed wire around you
To keep you upright.
Your asshole
Leaks
Shit and blood
On the chair.
The men insert a length of barbed wire
Through each of your cheeks and into your tongue.
You vomit again.
The chair is covered with a fetid concoction
Of blood, pussy, shit, and vomit
That dribbles to the floor
To blend with your husband's mixture.
The men take turns slurping up the brew,
Drinking it deep,
And rubbing it on their engorged genitals
Until they come.
Finally, the men leave you there for the flies...

Originally written:    ???; December 15, 2001(?); December 30, 2001
Put online:    December 30, 2001
Discussion:    Damn. This actually has been festering for years in my head. Originally, I had a dream about grabbing barbed wire while driving down a road. I had this dream while I was in (at the very latest) early high school, and perhaps even (more likely) while I was in late grade school. The vision has never left me. I also saw, either in my head or possibly a movie--I can't remember which, a scene of bear hugging a barbed-wire-wrapped cylinder and falling down it, which I simply modified for the purposes of this poem. The rest of the gruesome imagery I created recently solely for this work (which has elements of gore metal lyrics in it). In the original dreams (which were silent to the best of my recollection), the victim had no specific gender. That was created here only, and I used both a man and a woman because I like to think of myself as an Equal Opportunity Destroyer. This is certainly one of the more sick, twisted, and disgusting things that I have written, and, in fact, I had to stop a couple of times during the writing process because I grossed myself out. Like I have said before, sometimes I am one really sick fuck, and sometimes I scare even myself.

Back to the Index