THE OPEN MIC CYPHER

[e11even]

Originally Posted by Vividlyvague

Surgically clumsy, but I'm still surgical bitch,
A sturgeon in this ocean of fits as I throw up metaphorical fins.
Historical oracle, predicting your every forfeit- I win,
As morbid as laughter at rigormortis as I border ur fence...
A hoarder of limbs of different boaders I have cornered n' minced,
with their whores in my porn corridors as I perform my attempts...
At ensemination... orgasms til boardem signals obliteration...
More instestine and spinal segment tapings draping my Veil of Sadists.

Impaling's native... all hell breaks... loose? nope. It's God's creation.
So I harness it. An excuse farmers use for illegal harvest and cultivation.
Bar none. Poker bars done. She squirms in frightful terror on bar one.
Burned til the color has tarred some, then amputation-to-salt runs.
I'm cooked but not done. A medicinal haze fills this dungeon of ours...
Her mind's ventured to Mars. I undid the bra of this, now quadropalegic, and saw...
What dedication exists in a living zombie needing to exist after it all.
Fifth limb dislodged in her jaw. Tearing. A searing to the foundation of her mental, it's walls
Peeling. I'm feeling like I'm appealing the laws. Like I'm above the flashlights you see in a mall.
Like OJ is confessing to me like, "See? You agree with me, Dog?"
I chuckle in triumph as the load is released. One reload and a squeeze
and his bitch's limp whole is thrown in the sea.

...and I got away with it, ho. Behold, I alone am opposing your peace.
Die... and when you do, may it be so holding disease.