It's sad your fear

knowing that death is near

you lay hapless as a newborn
covered in feces

you tell me you love me
you're so full of shit

you would tell me anything now
to save
your pathetic life

but I promise to bestow upon you
something greater
more perspicacious than life itself

with your death
I shall create a symphonic masterpiece
in the uproar
upon finding you
naked of flesh
hanging by your intestines

will surpass that of Burke and Hare
killers extraordinaire

I shall become known as
the one
to whom all others pay homage

so pray to me and ask my forgiveness

for even God knows
not to interfere with that which I create

you see

crying is futile

yet your wails
sounds as beautiful music
salaciously enticing

your tongue
I shall keep
as a
reminder of this moment

so scream my child
until your heart's content
and your lungs collapse
for there is patience in dying
and my knives
are sharper than surgeons steel

so relax
is not of the essence here

would you
care a taste

open wide and eat of your flesh
for heaven abounds in its delicacies
do you see how my dogs devour it

your breast I shall keep for myself
for I find immeasurable pleasure comes
from eating
chocolate covered nipples

the way the areola
plays upon the palate
like a child eating cotton candy on a rainy day
I shall relish in it's memories forever

your eyes I will keep as witness
seeing only unto themselves
pickled and tart
a perfect noon snack
with crackers and tea
don't you think

their shock and awe
visualize the headlines
Monster Stalks City
as if
my monstrosity
they can envision (input demonic laughter)

monsters all of them
recycling feces upon the populace
there's breath in your lungs
to vilify me insane
insanity could not have created death
so beautifully orchestrated
and demonstrated

as abstract poetry
beautiful in its fluency
next only
to the decay of society

your death
the epitome
the hallmark of all my gatherings
culminated in your sufferings

will outlive posterity

and I
long dead
shall be resurrected
a copycat a rock star

for you see my dear
it will not end
with you or I
or the sudden ablation
of your flesh
you will live
the abstraction of your heart

and I promise you
my love
saved for last

it will be
the best part.

somewhere in japan scientist have learned how to recycle human feces into food. Wouldn't it be better as an alternative source of energy instead of steaks for human consumption.
Rate this poem:(1.67 / 6 votes)

Submitted by Odonko-ba on January 15, 2016



I am a moody anti-social introvert. Meaning: I Trust No One. My best friend is myself. My companion ~ my dog. I write because I must. It is my life line. My Beacon in a world cloaked in darkness, steadfast upon destruction, blinded by their own selfish needs...I write because, I must, to maintain my sanity in an otherwise insane world. I might not be the smartest apple to fall from the tree but believe me the resonance of my impact resoundingly reverberates the tree, stirring emotions and messaging egos in quiet retribution. Welcome to my humble sanctum more…

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"MoNstRoSiTy" STANDS4 LLC, 2020. Web. 3 Jul 2020. <>.

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