Cannibalistic Japanese Trapeze Talent Show

through the velvet-lined entrance and soft silky curtains, i stumbled into a place whose origin i was not certain. i saw a row of contestansts not aware of their grisly future. the interviewers, judges, and audience were cannibalistic vultures. asia conceals a flesh-eating secret. neon costumes with flourescent wigs, under a big top of horror. the set is something you could never imagine, and their stomachs roar. louder and louder their hunger grows. a mere spectator, now a fanatic i stand in the row. as much as they thirst for human meat, i thrist for the victims defeat. a morbid curiousity, they have spotted me, the eyes so virgin to human slaughter. now i watch as they drool over someones son or daughter. they hung onto the trapeze, a silver rod, they hung onto as tightly as they could. as if slipping would kill them, and i knew it would. one weak grip leads her hurling into a giant mouth-shaped entrance to a tunnel. a room full of enemas, knives, a freezer and a funnel. a slaughter house for human beings, my eyes widen all the sense are sharper, i need more. i've never heard of such things. once the bodies are collected, the flesh is ressurected to nourish the cannibals hunger. the smell hits me in the face, what is the taste, i wonder. bit by bit, piece by piece, i watch them devour someones neighbor or niece. their forks hit the bottom of the dish. to engage in such an act is my only wish. they eat them devouring every last trace, man now becomes animal without a face. after witnessing this abomination. they put me to the test. one turns to me, "have you ever tasted human flesh?" i must induldge and human meat i will eat. this is all so clean. bon appetit.

The Diary Of A Former Child Porn Star

now that the glitz is gone. i've got pubic hair and my tits have grown. the best is behind me and it's all downhill from here. i can still shave my balls, but it won't do so much. nothing can compare to authentic pre-teen smut. i can close my legs and pretend to be coy. but nothing can change that i'm not a little boy. now i'm as innocent as you want me to be, it's not as valid since i'm willing. it's not a young, struggling void you're filling. in your wet dreams i can always be eight. but then it was so easier to manipulate. pedophillia, he filled her. lick my lips and wet your dreams, hapiness cums in the form of a pre-teen. an undesirable fate impending and with semen its drawing near.. as i mentioned, its all downhill from here.

Now That's Love

a torrid love affair, holds a grisly history wth a tragic outcome porno murder mystery. punches are like kisses with more love. passion is violence without the push and shove. dig deeper with your cloven hoove, mark tender flesh and bruise open sores, make me cry out in effortless bondage. his eyes are vacantly seductive. i know one day we will have a chance to shed on the world this sickening romance. and if he's not ready when its our time, i will breathe life into his lungs, as he did mine. an ugly version of a pretty girl is all i'll ever be. i hope he finds in her, everything he needed from me. without my love, i am so hollow. i hope she can give you what i never could. but given another chance, i could try to swallow. willing to perform felatio and tend to your wood. pretty girls are like candy, but love is a fools game and sexual favors are always dandy. now that's love.

The Ballad of Tom Park

he offered them a unique oppurtunity, a chance for their bowels to greet his organ. exploring their young bodies in the public park. the worst was when he started laughing. the man breeds in filth. i tried to love him, but he only likes you when you're ten. and all he wanted was to play with them.

Gas Mask Romanticism

i have become immune to failure, masked portaits of pain blind dogs watching me writhe in vain. the cocked eyes of your soul, burned sockets charred, flaming, black holes. we're far from the warm confinds of home, which to me was a luxury unknown. this is too far gone to save. uncovered carcasses in the street, too late to be brave. dominating the disabled i am fabled, and strong. warm, and aching while pulling deep and long. wondering where my disease has went. the same twin touches me with longing and passion, november holds a secret to let you live. kill yourself from the inside, all resources shut down, and i had so "much" to give. my blood is thick as saliva. "like, when you cut yourself... how much do you bleed?" i stare into the mirror and my movements are delayed. the only redemption is in gas mask romanticism, i dont at all care for your pacifism. a single sentance can break you, boring paragraphs with hidden meanings, its all i can pick up, and it is without being. blood stained sheets are a safe haven for convicts. on my knees again, fetishizing manslaughter. a lack of justice is misplaced for jealously, penology can get me so far. the only thing thats clear is that he shines

Always The Villain

everytime i smile an angel dies, everytime i'm loved, an infant stops breathing. whenever i laugh a child lies, maggots feed on the saints' weeping. i owe my entire existance to a single conjugal visit. in soil so dry heaven can't cry. a world that is barren of all good that bestows, a place so dead. heaven can't grow. some one dead loves you. a martyr pulls the latch on my electric chair, i will die a victim of an innocent crime. crooked crosses across my chest, mark my strangled losses all who are scratching the surface, cutting the flesh, ripping and tearing, leaving the rest to consider themselves a disease. the bad guys never dispose at your ease. my flesh grinds against the pavement incorporating my blood with the floor. becoming better aquanted with failure. to me, gypsy spells class. freedom is a minset, and my mind is not set to endure it. anarchy is signing your contracts in blasphemers blood. somebody's gotta teach that kid a lesson. education is a useless weapon. i guess you can say my genetic mutation was birth. despite self injury, society is the only one i've hurt.

My Miranda Project

the colors dance, and i catch a still thing, spinning and flying on an absent wing. i can taste peanut butter, questioning the meaning of life, and all i want is someone i can hold. and you'd swear my embraces are like drownings. i wish for vivid dreams that inspire me to breathe. salt and pepper, enjoyable when insects evolve. i reached in the soup but his necklace dissolved. its begun to strectch it's fragile wigs, you're an angel with horns, the wicked, greedy things. i profess my admiration and with it i leave a residue of disrespect. she braids her hair while loving him, what did you expect? relax and exhale, we're exiled from society, all the rumours have become true. beaten untill black and blue, i can stop them now, decapitation is how. anemia is insie of me, a degenerate cell provoking all of the words i mispell. the rapist stalks me, he's only lonely, invoking intrigue... now he'll adore me.

Spanish Fly ft. Peach Dickens

broken arms and bloodless stabwounds a free maniac this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you. chase me throuh the halls, not noticing me against the walls. self defence is what i've chose. the only thing i see is light in contrast to dark. it seems i carry a killers mark.

The Beluga Whale Chronicles

a tiny version of death, necrophillia is my only regret. saving the world, but i know not how. bovine fantasies, i know someone who fucked a cow. she swallows more, his angel is a whore. forever is an unspoken word. murder is a crime that goes unheard. he gives her the sky, and all she can do is spit. you're the man, now that the flame is lit. forced laughter while i'm around him, flash an insincere smile cringing with every touch, stay around a while. complete and total submersion in charming denial. rotting corpses wash upon the shore. stark-raving-mad we search for more. they will begin to cook in the sun, the familiar stench, that will be fun. BBD your illiteracy is whats killing me. gone is the name of my current lover, we were soul-mates but then came another. genitals joining across the world, the entire world just wants a piece. i need bigger bucks, there'll be dollar signs on my tombstone, a "take that" for all the faithless fucks. grief is far too foreign to not be constant. singing is heard in the hallway but my vocal chords have withered and are latent. not again...

Tastes Like Chicken

tend to the animals and prepare for the slaughter, pay no mind to their screams, they were sent from the father. the only things that can nurture us is another's death thats as primal as life gets skilled hands work through, to sow the flesh of something new. breathing life into empty vials, bruises stay on an abused child. contourting bone, and stretching skin to materialize the beast from within, sealing the cracks and stitching the seams these monsers have become the dream. i'm your man if i don't have to wear this girdle. the comfort these four knuckles have found after pounding in your face. you're such a fashon-plate, a horrible disgrace. now i take my time to mutate. while you're dry humping the bed, i'm playing god with teen idols in my head. the days you loved me, i can count to none. lacking in strength, paper shroud now i'm done. it breeds from itself, and there is no enegy, only vessels mimicking humanity. desire, and its flaws are resistance to duality. mankind deserves to be punished, i need to kiss someone. my opening is reserved for no one. a curious sustance leaks through the corners of your mouth. he swings his feet against the warm breeze. good deeds is what its all about. a gruesomely violent massacre is what i need, and still off of itself it breeds.

A House, A Home

Phallic Imitation

strange insomnia induced illusions, sparking contusions. i've finally gotten some sleep. my tupperware contains severed fingers, decomposing digets i keep. abandoned by hope and living as a myth, not worth keeping up. i can always keep peeled foreskin in a cup. living life one half hour at a time, and dreaming in mauve. big blue bullets pierce through and penetrate the muscle, fluid gladly seeps through. the gruesome deatails of a trivial affair, there were skeletons on the road, and ghosts standing there. graffiti and my uncle they're all smoke and mirrors. a hideous design of autumns tears. motion blurs all leave clouded vision to signfy the details. scabs criss crossing open wounds as a train derails. this pain can't be subdued. anxious to hear from prince nothing, charleston will give me my hope. this is needed, or has the potential to be.

OPON WIED w/ Lou Bupp

guiltlessly living in apathy. self induced solitide, detatchment is unecessary since no one wishes to contact you. tireless knuckles sink into an unwilling crevice. hope dies as i push myself inside. i develope crushes on little boys, they'll happilly open wide. contraband is spreading a malignant disease. i am the infection and war will not condone my will to suceed. pale commercialism broke my glass sphincter, i am allergic to pain. sever the nerve neverending hurdles supassed by repressed emotions of love and doubt. where have you gone to? i used to scream in red gashes, now i'm silent in pink scars. hacked like pork, trivial doubts of who you are. but this girls razor went dull. angels made of stone just fall faster.

My Life as a Stuntman for Simulated Sex Scenes

while you're ejaculating onto her pale skin, i am shedding tears caused by mortal sin. hidden references to my lost love, consoling bondage-clad maidens with a warm leather glove. looking into a spriraling tunnel i can see myself in a disgusting shape, swolen and bleeding the aftermath of a rape. let me warm my hands. awkwardly position myself and let my organ expand. as a child i tried to befriend the monsters in my head who knew they'd cause less harm as an enemy than as a friend. curdling bits of vomit become lodged in my throat, can i rise from sodomy? trouble is a family game, am i somebody's mommy? drowned in the water, he condemned and comforted me. sickness smells sweet like your last babys breath. whores bring false security and then at last death.

Omar Pussy Sings the Blues ft. Omar Pussy and the Well Adjusted Young Men

another night alone i've spent. i'll kiss your picture one more time, and pretend once again that you'll be mine. my fantasies come true and come to life, everyhing i lack, the exception is that there's no one kissing back. i draw designs on him, as he draws someone else. they, themselves are all drowned. a murky and vicous ocean takes all it can from them, and i give, all i can as i am. tougher was it to live the harder they swam.

The Legend of Nubby Mounds w/ Nubby Mounds

a tomato full of maggots stares at me he knows me. i am the white ghost. red moon, i let go of my heart in the wind.

Adventures in Nonconsensual Sex

i believe you, and for what it's worth, i will leave you. a teenager in love is a dangerous thing. my orifices are spent and sore, the fountain of youth is made of repented whores. touch my breasts and i'll make you regret it. i wrote a suicide note, but they misread it. "buffalo time and secret ounces" i broke her, and she's not coming back. virgins never return. i would never, so i leave her to burn. i recognize myself in the ugliest parts of you. like the abstract portrait i drew. all that is meant for me is slavery. i wish for dominion but lack in bravery. we'll all follow the birds and only the smallest voices will be heard. i can show you everything you don't like about her, and assume another place. have the permission to imagine her face. unrequited love is an occupation, an ambiguous burden thats solved by starvation.

Willy

what was supposed to be is overlapping decaying skin curdling and bulbous nothces that you can fit quarers in strange tumurous growth that seeps with pungent syrup liquid blindingly bloodshot eyes that can only see and visually carress curves shaved off the first layer of skin and expsosed all the nerves this is what i'd do to you. it's only love, so it's not at all absurd. you should be flattered, you're now my masturbatory fantasy. the most highly rated one at that my love for a broken man can be bigger than this assembly we've built. this is all bleeding too much to be true, is this me dying? it could easily be the truth veiled by substantial lies. hoping to catch more of this radiance. it would be great to touch you all over. hurdle tragedy with exuberance and glamour. we all think of ways to try to get rid of you. a cross dresser holds keys on a one-ringed finger. too unlock doors which unleash suffering and disaster of inexplicable proportions... coming to a theatre near you.

tijuana

this is all just a failed attempt at greatness this is all just a great attempt at failure