Aclod of a cock-lover yawns between thrusts, pierces a dead-lover behind thewall of trust. Bereft of a cross and chosen by the slain, he can't forgive aflesh-less body scavenging for blame.
The yawning gulf
Between an orphan and an heir
Leaves the stray boys hovering
In the coldest air
Fear is the ghost
A boast between their legs
Jagged, waving hands
Reach them from the dregs
They're pumping it up in the garden of celibates
Love like barley bristling in the heat
Then a cold blast of laughter pours from a virgin
And thick, bulky boys recoil in defeat
They grope to anoint
The shadow-beast between them
But the coarse meal they share
Will never sustain them
The clod of a cock-lover
Mutters angrily
As desire exhorts
A hidden litany
He sings before
The augurs of doom
And cries out for covering
When mercy leaves the room
A bull of a man
Bows to cadavers
And thinks with a mind
Bent inward from chatter
He points his battle-flag And his horny tongue In the direction Of the stiff boys he hung Encrusted in rawflesh and a ruffian's hustle lovegathers dust flexing hopeless muscle.
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HorrorWARNING!! VIOLENT CONTENT! This disturbing fiction is loosely based from real cults and extreme groups. Some contents might not align to readers personal insights so read at your own risk. The goal is not to spread the word. You have been warned.
