you may need a murderer someone to do your dirty work don't act so innocent i've seen you pound your fist into the earth

slow thick
dark red rich
blood drops
n chunks of fat
mixed with hair
on damp shades
of brown leaves
marking a trail
between point of impact
and finality
scattered with
bed down pools
of rested
death on
soft dead grasses
pause to lick the wound
pause to listen
pause to smell
pause to fade
until startled
or passed
in a final field dressed spot
prepped to drag
by the head
fastest way out
catching on brush, sticks
limp lifeless meat noodling
over logs
parting ground cover
for a new trail of whatever
falls out
a new trail that'll
last at least 2 weeks
and make whoever finds it jealous.