guilt

You hatebred monster,
Mother was sodomized to death
and the scarred heart tired
yet beatin' never ceased,
That broken beast became guilt,
That is the thing quakin'
in my chest...

What a purgatory
exists
inside me.

Ocean conditions
like treacherous currents
and mile deep pressures;

Syncopation, rhythm, no rhythm at all,
the waning moments of a tear drenched
hate-fuck,
Life is yours where the tears are not...

Published May 03, 2010 Write a comment
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