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Fucked Up Poem
| Good [+1]Toggle ReplyLink» PoiSoNeD_CaNdY replied on Sat Nov 15, 2003 @ 4:21pm |
 Coolness: 91715 | Look at me.
Touch my skin, beneath your fingers. Stare into my eyes, my pupils dilating. Hear my voice, my words rolling on asphalt. Taste my lips. See my dreams as we lie next to each other in sleep. Drape yourself around me, be my cloth. Listen to my breath, heaving deeper. Lick my skin. Inspect me as I stand before you naked. Probe the deep insides of my cavities. Feel me throb and spurt within you. Swallow my juices. Now take a knife and open me up. Stare at my organs as they pour out of my shell, intenstines unwrapping. Sieze my brain, tear it between your fingers, uncovering my most hidden compartments. Chew my flesh. Do all this, and you will have uncovered who I am. |
| Good [+1]Toggle ReplyLink» Prototype replied on Sat Nov 15, 2003 @ 4:30pm |
 Coolness: 38385 | You're that pilot we ate when our plane crashed in the Andes! And the cold induced hallucinations that preceeded it!
Mmmmmmmmmm... Airplane food... mmmmmmmmm |
| Good [+1]Toggle ReplyLink» Screwhead replied on Sat Nov 15, 2003 @ 6:29pm |
 Coolness: 685615 | I saw a squirrel run and jump and twitch and took a few photos. I wondered if instead of a camera I had used a rifle and killed the squirrel, would the other squirrels know I had killed as a man, or would they have atributed the demise of their peer to an act of god?
When we die by lightning or any other cause that we don't understand, we atribute it to god. But what if we were the squirrels? I walked in the woods to hide my pain I cried, and only the stones and trees heard the sound of my wails. I cried for the souls of the dead that I hold dear. I cried and remembered that the dead no longer inflict pain. |
Fucked Up Poem
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