"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

Malice Inferno/Men Wrought Man


Destruction and death
Cracked and conquered from within
Now which is just a vestigial imprint
Of a once potential
Future self.

Destruction and death
Destruction and death
Lo, behold,
This, my stature of health
Liquor instead of viands
Or moral moxie
Towards the scions of my hypocrisy.

A liar by proxy
On trial by pyre
Of evangelical fire.

A black air howls
As if demons were raping
Their purgatory and scraping their skins
On the way out.

Man wrought men wrought man wrought men
The Mammon Machine is powering Zeal again.

Deigning to occlude,
An assassin of time,
I will siphon my blood
Through curetted veins into thine
So that you might survive
The plunge when he shrugs
Your passions, benign.

Damnation consigned to one and all
Confine by shopworn vice
Giving rise to the ever evolved,
Genetically mortared
Prison-tower walls.

Destruction and death
Destruction and death,
No one will survive on me
With what’s left!

Destruction and death!
Heralds of war
Famine, plague
Fallout to breathe…

And ev’ry whistling wind
Is a rhyme-scheme to me.

-Thursday, December 11, 2008

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