Entrails of Agony
Anguish is seen, heard, felt through repentant wicker
To relieve the strain of deteriorating courtesies which flaunt pleasure
In the eyes of bestial man in raw shells,
Left unattended by the inhumanity of her acing memory
Lost in a flame of ignorant chatter
To drive the brain into silent chaotic warfare
Feed this disease, My love
Then maybe these ripping entrails will emanate the stench of decaying repression,
And once again harbor the rotting agony of perversion,
Steaming to a boil in the remnants of loss and wonderment
To mislead us all into the grips of Her putrefaction....
poem by Jack Cropes
Added by Poetry Lover
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