The Rape of Death

How do I write? I’m sick of this regurgitated crap. Mark on the paper Not perfect Draw deep, dark lines that will divide

I eat your words I chew on your praise And I shit out the different ways To write on a page

Death is the last great orgasm that frees us from the wicked women and men who make our life painful. Death is dying in the white rooms where we inject our flesh with silicone plastic. I want to grow in the Earth, not rot in a box in an all white male Baptist Church farm. These mutants revere necrophilia.

Cruel desecration You sick twisted fuck. The rape of death.

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