Blood on Wootz

I dreamt of men,
with long, twisted nails
and sharp teeth asking me
to sever a tiny part of
their pinkies and toes.
And I did what they asked,
not that I took pleasure in the act
but there was another blade
so close to my throat,
that each time I choked,
on the bile from my gut,
I felt the metal dig,
a little closer
to my vocal chords.
As I was done,
they wiped off 
the crimson and keratin
on their blade
and went forth,
to sharpen it,
to decollate
my head.