Siberian jagerbombs

Siberian jagerbombs

A Story by The Unknown Sith

the bloodclot

Siberian jagerbombs

A big mysterious,scheming,and plotting spider above your head,
tuck nicely in a shadow with a transparent web,
salivating captivating anticipating being fed,
as the web swings back and forth with wind guided Force,
a bird's eye view as the sky falls upon you,gotcha!
now, all tangled, all angled, all mangled, your distorted and oddly contorted in it's web,
the spider quickly moves in position,
killing any chance for opposition,
as the Venom creeps inside,
you must give up everything see,
like a midnight Central Park robbery,
what a tangled web it weaves, Siberian.
Sitting on a wooden box surrounded by shiny ice, is a little hole that leads to a giant world below,
casting out a rusty hook,
trying to steal you like a crafty crook,
it's fate when you take the bait,
you tried to run but, it's too late,
snagged by Fate as your squirming and worming but, there is no way out,
flapping and popping about till your energy runs out,
dejected with blood in your gasping Mouth,
casted from this world into the burning air of the next,
a foot on your chest,
now no words spoken as a knife cuts you wide open,
finally your head is separated from your body,
don't take it personally is just a hobby,   jager.
Like something to kill the time like flooding the Mind,
Russ-ian chemical intoxication to alter the situation,
burning to the chest as fire was the dragon's breath,
caring of things a little less till there's nothing left,
oh the numbness to pain and the sorrow we drain; about unreceived fame or the loss of that Dame,
enter more to exit the name,
past the point of fun,
unaware of the loaded gun that you just shot your head off with,
Twisted tongues, Two Lips, and head lowered to hips,
face down upon where you sit and s**t!
now you wish there was a way to stop but, you're strapped into this rocket for the ride,
exit all inside as room continues to stretch and bend,
you tell yourself never ever again,
in the fetal position you blackout; dreaming of not waking up to a throbbing headache,
lying in your own waste and that not so minty vomit taste, Bombs.
Explosions of white space killed by the writing words,
what you see is followed by what you heard,
what you heard is the mind exploding,
here comes the sniper again reloaded...
by the unknown sith.

Standing outside a club somewhere in Siberia tucked up against the wall a big spider above my head we're both bobbing to the distorted techno beat from inside. The ground covered in snow and ice. I can see off to the distance a man sitting on a wooden box ice fishing. Suddenly the door opens as a man runs outside falls to his knees and violently vomits everywhere. I laugh, as a sniper shot rings out. The man on his knees looks back at me as I look down at my chest to see the red growing as I slide down to the ground and fade from this life I can't help but , watch the fish in the distance flop up and down on the ice as it is two taken from it's world.

This was my dream as real and fucked up as it seems.

© 2020 The Unknown Sith

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Added on March 18, 2020
Last Updated on November 9, 2020
Tags: poem, wild, spider, fish, yager


The Unknown Sith
The Unknown Sith


My writing are like scabs, I can't stop picking at them, The deeper I read, the more they bleed, I am forever a starving artist. more..