"I've got this killer up inside of me... I can't talk to my mother, (friends, women, coworkers, associates, affiliates, city council, the internets, the homeless or even your mother) so I talk to my diary."

-that Scarface song from Office Space

Lascivious Virtues Intertwined for Devious Integration


As long as rhyme deems breath
I do not seem capable of death
All the while music fills the coffer
Casual, yet virtual integration I offer
As if god, in jest
Had broken his own
Divine consultation
Just for me to at best
Endure it longer.

When day and dream unite
Nature and malignance’ve allied
Confusion replaces light,
When the mind and body divide.

The Mother of Abominations
Rides me in reverse-cowgirl
Through a future-tense referral
To menstruation of the vein, allayed
By the Sacking of the Rome
Inside her loins, contritely
An idyllic horror
That even by a man of my stature
Must be obtained.

Song is the whore
That taints my hearse
With a purulent chord
The brilliant sound
Who’s outercourse
Damns my terse and ungodly
Bodily manifestation…

To always seeking the calumny
That your body represents.

-Thursday, December 18, 2008

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