I'm unapproachable;
Antisocial - like the last polar bear
pondering where all the ice went.
This apocalyptic wasteland's death grip
strikes like Spock's back hand,
but lacks the tenacity to finish them.
Unkempt revenge - pit me against the spent.
I'm locked in combat with these autopilot pussycats
as they feverishly flutter by life on burnt batteries.
I'll stay strangling the head of a lantern
while banging on the door of the Banished
'till those mother ******* get fed up and answer.
I'll subdue every corner of evolution 'til
I grow fangs and communicate via echolocation.
Then I'll circumnavigate the coliseum
like Casper tweaked out on freedom.
Throw away your crucifixes, Lucifer.
That's not what you're supposed to use them for.
This is just linguistics infused with an acid drip;
Fourth dimensional Hieroglyphics ripped
from the pages of forbidden scripture
then translated through star patterns.
You see a pentagram, I see an anagram
dispelling your dimwitted notions.
A page from the past - A name tag crippled
by your misplaced primitive gasp.