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Scratchy Necrosis/Hop Scotch on Liquid Razors
Scratchy Necrosis
I drop
silicone bombs
so your chassis
of plastic may
become complete,
discreet I creep
everywhere I be
look for me tomorrow,
I already slayed
you today cause
of your deception
of spent yesterday's.
no life no shine
just a skin suit
of wasted flesh,
God's special
little creature so why
am I the teacher?
no pith exists in
your trifle miscreant
existence wretched
be the penalty,
splendid lobotomy
for your umbra of
kleptomaniac
sadist masochism,
chastising me
through larceny.
I'm a harbinger
of ghetto gospel
you be a heister
of my verity,
cracked lesions
of rising pestilence
broken cerebrums
elegantly leaking
crimson treason,
no significant
reasons
for you to
still be
breathing.
Get off your
knees please
your eye is
closed cause
you're thunder
fucked stuck
winking at me.
Hop Scotch on Liquid Razors
Apish fireballs tango within
obsidian crystals swirling
like miniscule galaxies
decompressing into
the cynosure
of your dying
lantern.
comatose windows
threaded vibrational
scratches
pander the palette
of searing flesh
cumulus whimpers
leak from hairline fractures
of uvula moccasins
amethyst cyst sodomize
plutonium diuretics
7.62 millimeter
empty plastic trench coat
Samhain balloons
tethered to
descending moon
levitating Atlantis
from terra-cota
Templar Knights
eating ashey sandwiches
from the ruins of a
inverted Mt. Vesuvius.
Copyright © 2017 Quietusquill.All Rights Reserved
I drop
silicone bombs
so your chassis
of plastic may
become complete,
discreet I creep
everywhere I be
look for me tomorrow,
I already slayed
you today cause
of your deception
of spent yesterday's.
no life no shine
just a skin suit
of wasted flesh,
God's special
little creature so why
am I the teacher?
no pith exists in
your trifle miscreant
existence wretched
be the penalty,
splendid lobotomy
for your umbra of
kleptomaniac
sadist masochism,
chastising me
through larceny.
I'm a harbinger
of ghetto gospel
you be a heister
of my verity,
cracked lesions
of rising pestilence
broken cerebrums
elegantly leaking
crimson treason,
no significant
reasons
for you to
still be
breathing.
Get off your
knees please
your eye is
closed cause
you're thunder
fucked stuck
winking at me.
Hop Scotch on Liquid Razors
Apish fireballs tango within
obsidian crystals swirling
like miniscule galaxies
decompressing into
the cynosure
of your dying
lantern.
comatose windows
threaded vibrational
scratches
pander the palette
of searing flesh
cumulus whimpers
leak from hairline fractures
of uvula moccasins
amethyst cyst sodomize
plutonium diuretics
7.62 millimeter
empty plastic trench coat
Samhain balloons
tethered to
descending moon
levitating Atlantis
from terra-cota
Templar Knights
eating ashey sandwiches
from the ruins of a
inverted Mt. Vesuvius.
Copyright © 2017 Quietusquill.All Rights Reserved
Published 2nd Jul 2017
| Edited 25th Jul 2017
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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