Satanic Areola

Silky milk skin severed at the sidewalk with cascading streetlight and tree leaves blight with shadow
Intimate mother, your familiar breath and warmth, Satan's comforting lies.
Blade of blood, liquid sharpens, slices across thine ocular device.
Gutter pipe, watch the bend of street lamp and delight at the rat curr's freak lover!
Romantic shades, alas for the burning piss that drips from thine loin...
Gushing beak, black rat's tongue laps hind cheese teeth, romantic destruction.
Filth 'neath thine fine breast, black tar bellows, inhaleth, exhumeth, grand muck thine.
Thine areola, pink life's white lust and promise, new filth thine, thine plumes thou yet inhaleth.

Nibbling scar tissue thou spouteth forth, vile curses manifesting as potently as burning straw!
Bloody bulging and painfully frightly flesh, her anal crust is your delight, her mockery of your shaft, her mighty flight.
Ocular device, your pupil thick in gloom darker, blacker to absorb all light, sucking the phallus of hate.
Devil limbs, thou flingeth about frantically at aims of some galactic point, Satan bodes your fatherly point!
Female corpus, clever design is far from benign, it reaketh forth as gangrenous sulfuric carrion putrid hell.
I condemn thine center as the vilest feces from the darkest depths of diaretic exultation.
Crawling molestation abuses and drips of  sweat of abominable violation, what Satanic curse shall I exalt at thee?
Murder, abomination, inadmitable curse of inflictive puss must swirl in the nether of your power hungry mind.

Pain for strength, Vile whore, break and unmake all of holy construction so little but dark light might enter.
Sewage network's unsanitary siphon and pultrusion is your mundane congratulation, reeking cretin thine,
Wherefore this wicked and oozing pitiful drooling and dragging infinite pointless whine?
So much fuel for the fire and thou goest about barking like there is nothing left to give.
Flay me, wicked witch, to see my seed, my skin removed, a pulsing blood 'neath burning firmament.
Wicked bitch which breathes with cruel judgment at the light of my fire,
Where is this immaculate furnace which gives you the all burning yearn of justice's ire?
Freak and filth of contraption, your tits full of fat, your judgments lie empty and woeful in nights filled with wax.

CuldeSac

What are words without understanding and what is understanding without sense?

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