Apr 27, 2006 22:23
Spin the apparatus in circular Paths.
Rotating involvement surround your spineless thoughts
Of self intimacy or insidious fame
Corpse twisting, snapping dried marrow.
Dust. Webbing.
Dehydrated skin molecules erupting
My body is the apparatus.
It’s inspecting your every move.
Minding your feats. Your thoughts. Your weaknesses.
I hate everything about you.
Spinal messages short of destination
Flesh wound radius 5.92
Gun barrel smoke.
Inhale my hate. Choke on it.
You are the product of imperfection.
Epitome of worthlessness
Rot in agony
And crumble at my feet.
I triumph over your desperate life.
I fucking triumph.