say

she stroked my thigh with a black studded hand,

pushing against resistance, futile.

give a little bit of your heart

and i will tell you what you need.

i am the spearhead,

i am the war dog.

heat rolls down the asphalt paved remains

what remains, deep down inside.

say can you feel it?

i burn, i break, the time has come.

crushed under the weight of wet remains,

i am the primer.

i am the spear head.

i am the war dog.

said can you feel it?

deep down inside, cut to ribbons flesh torn aside.

 gristle digested, fornicated, untested.

cunt licked tubular ingestion,

what you have become is a prized possession.

consumed by consumption of undigested meat,

trampled to death by throngs of running feet.

turn your outside's in, return your inside's out

 into the cold dark of night.

say can you feel it?

i am the spearhead.

i am the war dog.

 eyes sewn open, cunt sewn shut,

the curtain reveals what the soul now bleeds.

blown into dust by the betrayal of your disease.

lubricate the miasma that is your brain,

suicidal love songs are borne out of the fleshly remains.

disintegrating after birth

the tertiary fantastic horror

impaled on the aftermath of cosmic storms,

disemboweled dogs lick at their wounds.

i am the sun.

i am the spearhead.

i am the war dog.

said can you hear it?

last vestiges of love's lost remains.

 bifurcated decimation

for there will be no resurrection.

hell is the home you now reside.

burnt out retinas, hollowed out skies.

continuously callously stroking my thighs,

 pangs of destruction cries mournful sighs,

your eardrums are ruptured, your repetition now

structured.

say can you hear it?

copyright, terri l. gillentine, 2009, all rights reserved