Thursday, August 20, 2009


i am sharpening my fish hooks; polishing my boots

the fires of the war machine are being stoked, uruk-hai are growing in the concrete embryo of the city

waiting for tarmac vagina to split and tear, spewing molten hate into my city, OUR city

red-hot glowing shards of glass; hot on my tongue and in my lungs. feel it bubble and boil, blood giggling with anticipation

i have been given purpose

by the vixen, a goddess scorned

i will be the instrument of her divine wrath

scalpel insurgency at ninety miles an hour

I am precisely the kind of bastard you don't want directed agaisnt you

to be explicitly honest; I'm not tremendously fussed either way

but she asked me

so i will kill for her.

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