Update-
"The Pet Shop"
I saw his face
how his eyes ran out to me
scared and gentle
but wet and hard
behind those spheres
I saw the world
The world that had tortured him
until he could do no more,
than press his face to the window pane,
bang and scream
and bleed from whiplash
which has been intertwined
into his soul, ripped out
bound again and harshly severed
the constant scratch of inner torture
left not a bruise on his forgotten body
the flesh falling from his face
dripping off his cheekbones
dangling from his lips
which were twisted in an ever-present,
terror stricken yelp
the bones within him begin to vanish
the warm blood, still pumping
initiates decay
the epitome of careful torture
extracting a living soul
and feeding it into your triangle of filth.