When you
Twisted, Roasted and Burnt
the sourness of that  breath of my life,
Did you wonder if my eyes were quoting you
Or the dirge of a distant land,
Did you not pause to breathe that breath,
Lest I might inhale your sweaty stale
Sweet Breath!
Were you wearing the gloves of a shrunken leather,
That you made off my hairy skin
And its sweaty *****.
Did you glare deep into my eyes and toes,
Wondering if I was the untouchable
You had
enslaved for granted for a dozen years,
till my sour soul would breathe the last of your charred breath.
You had hammered me to fit into the holes of your *** with none a friction,
So that you could keep yourself warm, wet and nourished always inside me.
Weren't you glad when you rubbed my back,
When I purged with a distinct death moaning under your nose
Did you slap me because I disturbed your sleep purging endless every other minute?
Or just that I stank the staleness of your *** growing inside me?

I could do nothing my Staleheart Lover
But **** that blob of rotten animal *** of yours,
And die myself after this verse,
Cause
I simply could not love that red big *** that ran my blood and my flesh,
I just couldn't breathe no more, lest it breathed a fragrant life into me
And I forget the hatred I nourished with my soul,
So, I shut me as well as the heavy blob called my child!
So that I just couldn't let anyone conclude the it,
This blob,
The baby,
as one pretty mistake of us.