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Industrial Death Dec 2017
In a crypt where suffering knows no bounds.
Breaking minds to splinter to insanity
For all who enter such a torturous device,
Ye shall know the vice of
"inhumanity."

Drugged to will your damnation
To the bowels of Satan's secret lair.
The underbelly of earth where hydra's dwell.
Drug from heavens realm:
No man lives to tell.

In queue of many delirious fed,
From pots of boiled flesh.
A fermented smell of acid seers their lungs.
Cut from sight, taste, and smell,
Drunk from the searing taste on their tongues.

Beyond sight, in the grey mist ahead.
The decapited from sense, sojourn into
The nocturn abyss.
Within. Squelched screams of millions
Mask the air.
A final moment for living souls.
Drowned in utter woe and despair.

Involuntary suicide as
Satan mocks the scorn of millions.
A massive acid bath ****
Of melting flesh
Awaits them on the other side.

To be passed into pots, for the stomachs Of the next batch
Of a beguiled mass of man.
neth jones Oct 2017
Ladies & Gentlemen !
[a long pause]
We have orifices with which to communicate.
[laughter ; some uncomfortable]
Let us barrier the doors
(a fence to ours enemies)
and use our God-given equipment
to relate and touch ;
[pause]
flinches reducing to ease and practice
creating warmth
[long pause with mixed mumbling]
Let us be indifferent
with occasion
to the shortcomings outside of these rooms
[pause]
Our performance shall be ;
open tellings
unguarded and romantic ***
a friction of pleasure
a digestion
an elegance of respiration
fully processing one another
without shame
[speaking louder over the audience]
and casting aside shambles
In its place ; a smooth art
[pause]
and not a stain.
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