Cotton has a plantation, It’s home in central Texas. It might be your cremation. Don’t drive up in your Lexus.
In the barn he persecutes. Devices of mad torture. Chainsaws, meat hook executes, Diced and spilt into quarters.
The Bloodbath we fascinate, Victims face he has gotten. Oh my, he does dominate. ****** face here’s some Cotten.
This was based on my trip to Florida last week because I’m convinced Waze wanted to **** us. It took down this back Texas road that looked like Leatherfaces home. It’s done in Ae Freislighe, an Irish Quatrain.
i might as well just devour you , now that you’ve shredded my stomach and laughed . .
i never would’ve guessed that you would take a knife to my heart , and then rev up an engine —
but im sick of looking at your face , sick of thinking of you ,
and sick of smiling from my grave. .
i guess we can say you stole that from me too .
but you are proof , that even demons need to eat —
and this one is very , very hungry.
inspired by my best friend stopdoopy’s amazing post breakup love poetry, i decided to be violent for them. I wanted it to have more swear words but it just didn’t work out. the opening line was originall different. Also, happy birthday to me!