Gore, Guts, and Glory

So far, it's gonna be really hard picking a winner, these are really really good.

SimpleTon said:

I really love this one, definitely a worthy contender.  As a visual artist, I'd love to make a comicbook out of this poem, there's so many visceral little details that establish a sense of lore while providing social commentary along the way.  There's an almost whimsical quality to it as well that I simply adore. You really took the theme of the contest and went full blast with it.  That's admirable.

Also, I'd love to see you explore this character in some of your future work, or the world he lives in.

corpselily2185, That's such a deliciously fucked up poem with a really messed up narrative.  Conjures up images of Jeffrey Dahmer to me.  It really feels like I'm delving into the mind of someone as messed up as him.  Great work.

Also, welcome to the site, I look forward to seeing what you'll post next/

I want to rot
I want to decay into a pile of guts and muscle strings on bone.
I wait for a coffin to size
I beg for that sweet end of life,
I dream of wasting away.
My skin slowly slipping loose like an unzipped dress,
slowly sliding off my body.
Muscles and nerves exposed to fresh air.
The burn of cold before the numb.
To watch the muscle slowly degrade,
withering and stringing away like cheese in a grater.
To see the bones crumble and wither like old stones ground together.
My innards slowly burning away from their own acidity,
The pile of my body on the floor rotting and rancid.
It attracts animals and flys that ravage the remains,
leaving nothing but a memory of me which will soon be forgotten.

I am wounded.
They can smell me. They can hear as I try and run with little to no hope.
I try and stumble through branches that crunch beneath me, leaving behind a trail of blood for the hounds to pick up on. I have no hope of survival. All I am doing is prolonging this pain. My side is drenched in blood and there is an iron taste in my mouth. I cant see my own arm, no longer there but I cannot process this as shreds of skin hang off the socket. I can't keep running. I have to stop. Vial expells itself from my body, a bloody puddle of vomit and teeth. My last meal now on the ground. I hold my side and pray that it isn't serious. I shouldn't have stopped. I grow faint and I lean on a tree, sliding down onto the floor. I can hear them, the hounds, snaring and barking but I can't see them. I am almost out of time and my sight is fading. They're here. I scream in pain as teeth tear into my skin and tug and pull, ripping flesh and muscle from bone. At this point, I wish I was dead already. A tug to my side and my stomach rentches as my intestines are pulled through the gaping wound. I can no longer scream, I have no energy to fight as I lay there and am devoured as prey to carnal animals with no sense of remorse. I finally close my eyes as the hounds have started to leave, only to have my eyes jabbed at and stabbed by a prying beak. Soon enough I am blinded, in pain and torn beyond repair. With this I assumed I surely will die soon enough but no. I barely live to hear deaths rattle as I breath. My end is soon as I started to feel the bugs and small critters crawling across and into wounds. I can smell my own putrid oder. I reak of blood and sweat and bugs. I no longer can feel anything.
Now just another pile of bones for animals to scavenge and make use of for themselves.

Lonely Thoughts II (Lonely Actions)

I am a great believer in equality
I mean, shit; I am almost a lesbian
Men and women should be equal  
In all things, in all kinds of rights
In all regards gender is redundant
And we all should be looked on as
Humans

Having said that, there are differences
More than just balls, cock and vagina
It has to be admitted that men are just
Better at some things than women; like;
Violence, sexual assault, torture, murder
Sexual deviance, crime, telling lies, cheating
Being disgusting, being smelly, being assholes
Being cunts, without cunts, being bastards and
Dicks, fuck ups, wankers, porn dawgs, freaks
And not forgetting Paedophiles and Monsters
Sub-Humans

I recently found out that men scream better
Than women; their pain thresholds are lesser
Which, from my perspective, is absolutely ideal
Their screams are more guttural and grind like
I had him iron shackled hands and feet to the
Cellar table: It had been so easy to drug his drink
And stagger out with him and put him into the van
Not for a single second did he realise who I even was
The scalpel easily cut both mouth corners to ear level
So much blood and screaming, but what a new smile
Soaked with lime juice and Scotch Bonnet chilli powder
For that special after burn: The smell makes me hungry
Day 2: I take my scalpel to make some deep cuts on every
Finger; first at the nail line, then at the first knuckle, then
Just below the second knuckle: I then cut round each
Knuckle in a circular shape, then four tiger stripes on the
Back of both hands, then to the palms, you know those
Lines the palmists read, I scalpelled each line perfectly  
Brushed each hand with concentrated bleach, it's always
Important to work clean, germ free I mean I wouldn't want
Him to catch an infection; where's the fun in that, really
His screaming throughout was exquisite almost got wood
But I wasn't finished I put both hands in metal pans containing Nitromos paint stripper to soak overnight more screaming But sitting upstairs eating dinner the screams subsided and he Ironically started whimpering like a ten
year old boy and more his tears caused me no empathetic emotion, if anything they Made me want to go down there and torture him even more But then there is still tomorrow; that night I slept like a log

Day 3: Went down in the morning was greeted with a special
Smile 'You ready to scream some more father?' he started to  
Whimper I reminded him I wanted to hear him scream and took The boiling pot of coffee and slowly poured it over his face; 'Now that's what I call a scream Father!' I washed his hands out of the trays his skin peeled of like a loose pair bloody woollen gloves, his nails were like rose petals, perfectly still joined, I washed both skins thoroughly and tried them on, such a perfect fit: I went back to him
and pulled his ball sack out cut an incision and filled his scrotum up with horse fly maggots and stapled it shut,
more gorgeous screaming, then I grabbed his cock ironically it was semi hard, this fucker was getting wood: Now I like to be unconventional so, I took my scalpel and cut his
cock in half length ways and poured a mound or salt and chilli seeds, his screams were almost angelically choral

Day 4: I took his left hand and nail gunned it to his crotch, same with his right wrapping the fingers round his half cocks tying of with magnesium ribbon, I wrapped hundreds of lengths of magnesium ribbon over most
of his body then used a blow torch to light it, expensive but so worth it as when it started to burn white hot, his screams were like operatic  overture, 'Bravo!' I shouted, 'Bravo'
I lent in: 'Father Malone, it's me little Davie, don't you remember me Father, surly you recognise this mouth? '
He uttered an 'oh god' of realisation; 'God won't help you now you old bastard!' he whimpered and teared up 'please kill me, please!' I covered him in salt, lime juice and chilli seeds, at night I could almost hear the blisters forming and bursting, I loved every scream, whimper and painful cry It took him fourteen days to die, I enjoyed every waking moment: One down Thirty one to go. Some people will think me inhuman but you can't be inhuman to someone who is sub-human, A monster, a beast a fuckin coward hiding behind holy orders, he deserved everything that I gave
him and much more
Number two won't be so lucky
I am just helping Karma
Do God's Work