Hands gasping, arms open wide
They say we are happy where we are
deep within their insides
We lather and soup our skins to shine
Under their bubbly gloss of soot
that creams our bind.
They say we are adults,
men and women alike
We are happy where we are
in the stomachs of the night.
Not from their falsified realm but the candles of light
Artificial and swelling.
They burst forth with mirth,
lust and an internal promise
to the smitten of the earth.
‘Devour, devour and thus you’ll be whole’
The war of forthright is over and we have saved your very white soul.
You are empty and “pure” and we give you good tidings.
To the unusual, the weak and the slaves not hiding.
They eat you and you cannot see
for you are walking up a stairs
that twirls down, down, down
To a man-made kingdom of vampires and clowns.
Scissors in hand
The cutout hole behind your skull
drips the brains of a vessel,
a person of frogs
The temperature is low and the victim can’t feel,
the pulling, pulling
on the temporal reel.
Their brains will splash with blood and gore
amongst the dead vultures on the floor.
They climb up, up, up down
the stairs. And continue to live,
unfearing and bare.
Frivolous with their ideas shape-shifted in their minds
Oh little girls, oh little boys
Born spoiled and wealthy,
from children sold;
a pain of faculty.
Oh dear honest life,
why the formality?
Spondaic
iambic,
there is only strain.
Playing, playing to the nothingness power.
Betwix a judging of the non-hour.
Alas, alas it’s all in vain.
The cutting of a tongue being sewed again
oh harlot garbled in white
take that knife again
A boiling froth of puss mewing in the eye,
damaging scars
of empty insides
to hell we go
repeat, repeat, repeat
Mary Ann is your not so average Canadian lady incognito who loves hockey, traveling and a good laugh. With a playful personality and capricious hobbies, it's not hard to keep this one satisfied. But watch out for the blade, the bloodlust can make even the sweetest go mental...