24 Oct 97

Throb, throb
Slick & greasy
Grasped inside mauling digits
Flipped from detached branches
Eyes open to the screeching rhythmic peace
Pain so loud it's pure
Drowning straight line highway
Tossing signals into the resevoir
Splitting unyielding flesh
Gotta, gotta , gotta
Spread
Pure energy
Heavy slab contact, slicing
Why can't I bleed?
Why can't I breed?
Where is the host when I scream?

© Copyright 1978-2011 by Preston V. McMurry III

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