So Sew Me Up, I'm Out of Guts to Spill (I read the The Lowest Animal satire by Mark Twain & This Happened)

A wooden axe
to cut down
the trees.
Slitted roots and
homeless
honey bees.
We are all
killing
and dying
and killing
and dying.
We're all dying.
We crucify the
purple silk
and -
worship -
selling sex.
Corrupting soil
like the infant
vagabonds.
We will
all
fall down -
idolize our
vanity while
counting the
pills for the
next attempt.
And why
don't we all
just fuck and
get it over with?
Or feed the
babies
cancer because
they'll ingest
it later, anyway.
Better yet!
Slaughter the souls
of the Lower Kind
to provide
for third worlds,
and plea
for peace!
Yet we kill everything!
Oh! It's
fucking disgusting
how we degrade!
Yes - The Blushing Animal!
Slaves pervade.
The scum that is
society.
Raping the fetus
of what is beauty.
We choke on the
splinters of the integrity
hewing!
We are nothing
who assumes the
arrogance of
Abundance and
ungratefulness.
Rain to soak your
electric eyes.
We molest and
manipulate.
After all -
knowledge is power.
A wooden axe
to take the trees
to power the fire
which cooks the meats
we take from life
and we still
fucking claim
to be the divine.

We are all
so hollow and
rotting.







        - My impending
Nihilism.