they come fast
puncturing my very soul
my body only a coffin
if they stay trapped
it is torture
this feeling of eagerness
relentless fists punching
through my very chest
once my sternum breaks
blood, bone and marrow
splats on the digital canvas
pouring out everything
to the last drop
of creative blood
though satisfied
of the ******
what I see before me
is strategic
as a general in war
a visual interpretation
of society
feeding the design of
consumerism
Oh yes this work
of my blood, flesh and bone
they will consume in such
drunk laughter
like cannibals they
will judge, speak, and post
of the visual
that lead them to
experience the indulgent gorge