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Rated: XGC · Poetry · Dark · #2205104
This is not a love song, far from it.

A frame was found far underground,
a wooden circle, earthen-bound.
Through perforations in its shell
shone rays 'tween Heaven and High Hell.

A gifted one I was,
red apples could have been,
fool's gold I have become.

PENUMBRA!
Shine on all but me, ye Sun.

Opulence, sweet opulence,
a treasure trove of confidence,
a wealth of lack of guilt,
a psychogenic climax thrilled.

Thirteen blows I took,
bittersweet, familiar hooks;
to null and void begone.

PENUMBRA!
Let their evil breed our son.

Thrice-cursed the life I led,
Y’all fucked me, fucked me dead,
Carved engrams in my bed,
Lust for slaughter, rape and dread.

A thousand days of "NO!"
Sleepless nights of woe.
“Endure, and in it grow...”

PENUMBRA!
Fuck rhymes. Fuck you. Fuck this song.

A thousand blows! A thousand sores!
Devil’s laughter! Circling whores!
"Morning blood!", they shouted all,
and nobody would catch my fall.

The Bear watched on! He saw me crawl!
They stopped when I too stopped to moan!
Grabbed my dick, pulled up from below,
and tomorrow he would watch some more.

Next day! Still sore! Da capo! Once more!
Add some ass-rape on classroom floors!
That was my lot in life for sure,
I sure as hell knew nought but war.

In my dreams, still evil calls!
Bloody cunts split open!
Venomous vitriol waterfalls!
I fucking hate you, fuck you all!

FUCK IT — I know who you are!
FUCK ME — Y'all know who you are!
FUCK OFF —  Wherever you are!

FUCK YOU — I fuck dead y'all!
FUCK YOU — Fuck who you are!
FUCK YOU — Yeah, fuck you all!

FUCK YOU! FUCK ME! FUCK YOU!
FUCK YOU! FUCK ME! FUCK YOU ALL!
© Copyright 2019 J. J. Netzach (jjnetzach at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2205104-Crimson-Conception