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Jay M May 2020
GORE WARNING - The following contains language describing blood, gore, and death.


Take to the streets
Frozen black rivers
Flow no more
Then once more
Icy black veins
Leading to a dead cold highway
Nothing left to stay
All guilty on the floor
Shouldn't have opened the **** door

Play the song, broken chords
Walking across creaking floor boards
Just can't seem to take the reins
Move the paralyzed limbs
When looking into the eyes of the ******
Lurking just around the bend
Waiting for the prey to turn
And be fallen
Back to the floor
Blood on the door
Screaming, smothered, crawlin'
Drop like a fly
Hush, run, there's no more need to cry

Sprawled out along the canvas
Open and on display
Spilling forth the contents
Bringing the scene some color
Breathe a little life into the gloom
Damp and dark
A beautiful mess
A masterpiece

Artist gone, first piece done
For now there are none
To view the first for the gallery

Sirens wail
People pale
Push past the door
Witness the horror on the floor
Blood pooled around it
Sprayed on the wall behind it
Corpse with a permanent smile
Blood oozing out like syrup
Criss-crosses carved over the eyes
Game over for the poor soul

Chest sliced open down to the waist
Pulled open, ribs like an opened cage
Heart delicately cut out
Missing from the scene
Didn't go to waste
Could this have been lovers rage?
Such is for the authority to figure out
Not exactly serene
With the entrails on the floor
Revealing that more than one ***** left through the door

With the same care as the heart
Both kidneys missing
Leaving but ****** spaces
What anther strange part
Not to be dismissing
As a mother paces
Shocked and worry stricken
What has become of her family?
Her husband lay dead
Her daughter gone
Just as the young one said had said
Now it seemed she had fled
Never to return the next dawn..

- Jay M
May 5th, 2020
This piece is rather dark, and is based upon my new character "Sara" for a horror story I'm working on.

Yes, in the story the daughter "Sara" brutally murders her father while her mother is out.
Artem Mars Apr 2020
Standing on a pedestal
Bleeding on a stage
Colored insides for the aesthetic
Beautiful gore
Enhancing your beauty with gore
Showing other people my bones
An idea of perfection being nothing but blood and bone
I lay here and laugh
At the body, i’ve destroyed
At the skin i've hurt
And the insides i've boiled
The commercials show the ideal size
So the people that tell me
The one that I killed
The one that I saved
Whoever would stop me
From crumbling bones
And melting eyes
Limbs are falling off and getting lost
But i'm the idea of pretty
With the gore falling away
i dont know,
King Arthur Apr 2020
I’d cut open my ribs for you
Kidneys, bladder, stomach, bones, heart
Would all be my gifts to you, my prayers
Eat them, use them, break them, I don’t care
As long as you keep your hands in me
I’d be the worst sinner
Hell has ever seen
For you
No one Mar 2020
When you hear the word cannibal

all you think of are immoral animals

Those who tear his own kin

apart, limb by limb.

Those who are consumed with the idea of gore

and once they have it, want more and more

When you witness the act of cannibalism

you think nothing of it, because it's an anomalism.

Because the more realistic example,

is us humans tearing each other into shambles

over vile words, wealth, and power.

Our foundations just run-down houses of lies we call a tower.

Then our leaders call these nocuous acts,

things that help our nation stay intact. 

Our society is filled with immoral obsession,

hidden by smiles and good looks called deception.
Children aren't meant to know firsthand of the wars that are fought.
They are not meant to smell of
blood and ash and helplessness.
They aren't meant to be ferocious as feral wolves,
snarling and snapping at anyone that dares to get too close.
They are not meant to have bullets for words,
and knives for hands.
They are not meant to taste of loneliness,
much less of fear and gunmetal.
Children aren't meant to dream of loss
and failure
and sheets of blood that rain down
and paint the buildings
a macabre crimson.
Children aren't meant to become soldiers that fight the wars of their elders.
Don't grow up too fast. Enjoy your childhood while it lasts, because you'll miss it when it's gone.
Red Feb 2020
these sharp crooked joints
bulge beneath powdered skin
rotting nailbeds point
lurch from a lumpy shin
stretch my elastic ligaments
release these captive organs
seethe against my innocence
seek release from biblical orphan
what godless days roam this world
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