CHAPTERS : | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 |
"Crippled beast you don't fuck me! Step back curdled spirit...witch of stupor,
slob criminal...thief impaled. This is my ascent. Your clouds and venom
hurt me no more. I'm immune. I've swallowed your poison too many times, the taste
of it is candy to my buds. Foaming bitch your neck I will fuck. Bleeding cunt
your hole I will sow so you breed no more of your faithless minions. You want war?
This is my desert. These are my snakes, your hair. I'll sink my teeth into your
flesh and let go not until I rip it off. I will eat you fucking sloth.
Never again will you gain entrance into my den!"
FROM PROPHET BEEL'S BOOK OF POEMS: "CRIPPLED BEAST"
"Bells toll. I hear them, see them through windows. Incessant ringing
for those cut. Those bleed. Them who, through no fault of their own defecated
their last shit for a blind cause to greed the feeding fuck.
Brute. You call me out? I am here. I can be there. Wherever you please. Be. Forewarned. My blades are sharp. Sharpened to slice you. I will not retreat. Your feats are nothing to me. Your calls are those of weeds in rosegardens.
Brute. You who tread on my daily bread with muddy feet and fungus. Fool. You who smile and call me cute. I will. With golden locks and pink ribbons. Fuck you up. I will. With lace, and, powder, and, sugar, rip your fucking heart out. Brute. You who protect me knowing well your walls imprison, knowing well your voice is grating. Sing no more.
These lullabies you try to endear me with are love poems for the weak.
You think I am your nation?
Streak the me and I shall lion your fucking eyes."
FROM PROPHET BEEL'S BOOK OF POEMS: "BRUTE"
C A C A : 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 |
M A N : 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 |