"Despair Sighted, For Death Is Thy Familiar"
I keep pressing a compress over the emotion,
but the stitches keep ripping open
Open mouths, fangs agape
my fury has a soul to rape
and against some rusted nails it will scrape
killing God with a child-like grin
Open are the sores of men
on and off again we stand up and spin
this globe of wandering, translucent disease
the flies are fucking their own larva as they please
Stupid pretentious verse of nothing
little trumpets blaring something
a meritless item no one wants to hear
beating on an unconscious queer
Seer laying on the floor
bones apart, splattered in gore
A whore, whose name is "no thank you"
we sat her upright and sneezed out her rapture
Deletion comes on the morning's grin
apart from love I rot again
screaming my screams to a deaf world
a dead god denied of his string of pearls
donkey punched and sodomized by the masses,
a mongoloidal tidal wave of excess and bleeding iconography
Tormented at conception
and
asunder we rip the muses
Fuses
counting down to the next front page addition of space
where once a meatbag blocked our view of hell
Sense was made on the first line
and now the demons of madness shall dine
upon wings made from the skins of dogs
impaling precision onto rotting logs
Erase
Rebuke
This poem is useless
So is everything else
(note: title is taken from a known phrase spoken by Beholders, from d&d canon)