This fear is not that
someone is frightened by your mind,
but that they find it
both typical and mediocre.

If you live in this fear
you are slave to your own supremacy;
Create a devil and live in it's shadow.
You can't even be
the filth you sink to, fully.

I cannot cleanse my soul
     until I remove the filth

I cannot mend my heart
     until I remove the hate

I cannot live my future
     until I remove my past

I cannot breathe in peace
     until I remove **myself

One of  Edna's "randyhornbag" collection of erotica.

i am a ******* *****
   and that's not a metaphor
it's the total ******* truth
   i'm a ******* forsooth
it's what i do for work
   i'll **** or **** or ****
off any man or beast
   i don't care in the least
young boys old men fat freaks
   i get them all most weeks
i'll have any kind of ***
   cash only and no cheques

i suppose you think it's funny
   to **** fat men for money
to have countless alien *****
   often stinking like old socks
shoved up my pretty *****
   kept artificially juicy
to make the fools imagine
   i'm oozing jissom for them
it's not the best of jobs
   ******* total strangers' knobs
pretending to like vile men
   when if i could i'd flay them

i rarely **** for pleasure
   i no longer have the measure
of love and tender feeling
   of kisses phlegm congealing
my private sexlife's twisted
   i love being thrashed and ******
i crave darkest degradation
   masochistic *******
so if you think it's funny
   ******* men for money
let me be quite blunt
   if you think so you're a ****

Another "randyhornbag" poem for all avid fans of *******.*

rip off my dripping *******
and part my waiting ****-cheeks
sniff my fresh-scrubbed ****
then rim me ******* senseless

taste the sweet-sour tang
of my recent defecation
force your ***** mouth-*****
past my eager sphincter

seeking to engulf me
in my ****** ***-lust
and now for our delectation
shove your huge **** up me

and fill me with your hot *****
or fist me till I scream
my ******* brains out and
then **** myself in terror

How I love the smell of your *****
As you straddle my eager open mouth
My tongue licks at your mighty ****
As your canines brush my engorged ****.

How I love the taste of your throbbing ****!
O the feel of your spotty **** in my hands!
How my tonsils risk a ****** good bruising!
And lo! my ***** get stuck between your teeth!

Then your ***** gushes down my hungry cake-hole
And my salty ***** juices run down your fat chin -
But the best bit so far, is if we skilfully manage
To let fly two foetid mutual simultaneous farts.

But now, folks, we get to the really good bit
The bit which we have both been waiting for:
Out come our joint warm streams of diarrheoa
Drenching our excited faces in noisome filth.

Chaotic ***** lover,
skin made of cyanide
a princess made of man.

I get anxious at silence and wait.
How can you love someone you
give so little effort too.
Minimal.
Garbage.

I don't hear whats so beautiful anymore,
so I revel in the filth that I've become.
Shitlord.
Taking time to cough out
fragments of clockwork,
carrying cracked lips that
sway in a breeze
beat on a broken ankle.

Are you somewhere lost at sea?
Are you riding on a storm?
Do you feel lonely when you
turn over and there's another
cold spot in the bed?

I don't expect much anymore.
I want to sit in muttering silence and enjoy
the quiet in my head.
[where]
You aren't real to me.

I relish the chance to yell you into something small;
a field mouse or the belly of a great monster.

Love is tearing me into ribbons,
but with care, they become banners and streamers
for a parade held in honor for a martyr
who hasn't died yet.
The reality is smeared into the genes.

Downgrade in technology.
Lost in your own eyes.
Aggravated.
Always paranoid.

Sleep in for
a couple months.