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The stench caught
between these cavernous
walls, calls this cursed, ravenous,
blasphemous mockery
of your flesh, so unclean,
so impure.
Hanging from the rafters,
each of your limbs bound in rope;
prosterior lowered.
Granite vertex pierces skin,
anal orifice penetrated.
Your body, cradled by Judas,
lifted back up at the brink of death.
Strapped to a table, surgical in its
appearance; your death apparent.
Arms at your side, duct taped to your grave, I can smell the fear inside you.
Brushed by a feather on the arches of your feet, a laugh escapes your lips.
After an hour the laughs cackle dry, and the look in your eyes could kill.
Writhing in pain from your efforts to escape that are all in vain.
Another hour passes by, I can
tell you want to die, but this is not your lucky day.
So, "coocheecoocheecoo", you piece of human filth, let's put a smile on that face.
By the third hour, your eyes roll back in your head, and you choke on your spit.
Awoken, dragged along the dirt,
confined to tattered planks of birch;
delirious and faded.
Life flickers in and out of your
eyes, cold and sundued
by dissonance and fear;
by the sight of the approaching noose.
The skies are bleeding green,
beckoning from the other side,
where there lies sweet relief.
Sweet resolve in the eyes of Mindu;
unforgiving but fair.
Now rise, my pig,
to the slaughter.
Stand up on your feet
and listen to me.
Put it around your neck;
you will soon be free.
Dropped, suspended by the throat,
you writhe and you choke.
You come close to death,
but we're not over yet...
Hoist him up again.
Hanged, drawn, and quartered,
in the city streets.
Castrated and engulfed in flames,
with a dagger overhead
for an ending, bittersweet.
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And now coming 'round this turn,
Blackbeard is, "plundering the booty,"
so to speak.
Gold spills upon the entrails
of the recently deceased;
history repeats.
What? What do you mean,
"It's not appropriate?"
Their legacy is blood, gold, and semen,
not heroic deeds; fuck.
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Open your mind; I am the light.
Materialised epiphany;
seeking the path to enlightenment
through your third eye.
But the cosmos is not so welcoming
to the recreant residents of this concrete jungle, brimming with wayward, misled miscreants.
The memory of poison eyes seeps from
the aperture in your skull, nearly complete.
The howling of twisted metal numbs
the process of your approach to infinity.
Coiled and lying alone, exposed frontal lobe.
Silence creeps in, the calming before
the storm. Light penetrates, nightmare consummates; erect and eager.
Violated senses;
the skullfucking of the trepanned.
Insemenated by Ouroboros in
the confines of a waking dream.
Eviscerated by Ouroboros, raw
and splitting at the seams.
Macabre, mindless drone, your flesh is my home.
Thrusting into the depths of your madness.
Far gone, stillborn consciousness,
still clenching your fists; cerebral climax.
Your last breath escapes your lips.
Chewed up and then spat back out;
slice the throat to remove doubt.
The skullfucking of the trepanned.
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