remains

upon the serene waters of her saintly face, her smile is a rabid vamp-beast that floats.
she is my anguish. I am her boredom. we are the two teary eyes of  depression.
these truths are spike-nails driven into our crucified happiness. Lord, is it finished?
from my perch I view our squirmy dream being tramped to death as bodies clap! clap! clap!.

 

her hunger remains.

 

electric sex infects our wounds, and, in love’s toxic demise, we rot. we attempt to slay the
dysfunction, but it has become our existence. our resistance is a talon-clenched mouse
that bites at he grip of it’s mighty attacker. when abuse is a daily occurrence, healing is futile.
and the relentless current of anguish overwhelms, but loins crave satisfaction. action! action!

 

our hungers remain.

 

kill it! my horned lust nibbles the ear of animosity. ferocity becomes our  nucleus.
around this hot wet center we revolve. in the acidy energy of pain we dissolve. below, in the chasm
between our  minds her dead giggles decay; clogging clots. I’m left to mourn their passing. 
stashing corpses in any hole I can find. now my mind is a burial ground. she is gone. gone. left:

 

my hungry remains.

Reviews

[Jinelly]

i really enjoyed this, i love your writing:]

[Emily B]

I think the words want to be 'outloud'; off the page and clambering around the room . . . some words just are not content to lie on the page. Even an electronic medium like this one