Spill lights click on
and the hunting ensues.

Crack the case
and break open the night.

The squishing of meat against
her eyes as she hang frozen
in the beef truck, makes the
most unsettling sound.

Sell me something
worth playing with.
I've already seen
a premie in their prime.

Oh but when I say premie
just know were not talking babies.
Although talking babies would be a miracle.

No were referring to young girls with hip huggers and
furry backpacks, glitter eyes and big
sun glasses that roam the halls searching
for hugs and pity for their perceived ignorance,
and non chalantly stick out their ass into
oncoming school traffic.

A slave to the dark.
Such an anti-vegetarian way to die.

04/09/2009

Author's Note: I drew what I thought your cunt looks like on the palm of my hand once. Thinking is not illegal right?

Posted on 04/09/2009
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