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B_LidPoems
the Exquisite Executioner. What kind of organic golem of engrammic man am I, so cold as to make you quiver. You ask what hides under my thin veneer of vernacular? A bullshitter. Caressing a mind swollen with Superego I'd rather be traveling Home if only I could just let Me                     go. For I am the **** leftover from your irate iron decisions. I am the sepulcher, wreathed by your iconoclastic tongue. I am the maw trite in humanity partite in hunger.
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Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 9:59 AM UTC
I Am Created
the Exquisite Executioner. What kind of organic golem of engrammic man am I, so cold as to make you quiver. You ask what hides under my thin veneer of vernacular? A bullshitter. Caressing a mind swollen with Superego I'd rather be traveling Home if only I could just let Me                     go. For I am the **** leftover from your irate iron decisions. I am the sepulcher, wreathed by your iconoclastic tongue. I am the maw trite in humanity partite in hunger.
B_Lid
Written by
B_Lid
American
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 9:59 AM UTC
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