November 25, 2006

• Clenching fists upon thy blood
  Trickling wounds begin to flood

  Broken, tattered flesh, no more
  Behold, as we feast upon rancid gore

  Gashing talons through one’s meat
  Gormandize all, from head to feet

  Upon thy kin, I lacerate flesh from bone
  Skills of slewing; mine to hone

  Bodies, hanging from rusted hooks
  Engorged, then abandoned within forgotten nooks

  Gobbled up and thrown away
  No true reason for why you pay
  
  

  • 6:49 am
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