The punctured exlife slithers
|
Out your bloody gaping hole
|
So warm the blood runs down your legs
|
Your tears you can't control
|
Your son or daughter (who knows which)
|
Is just a pile of shit
|
You look into what might be eyes
|
As your mouth flows with spit
|
|
Cradle the gelatinous thing in your arms
|
Leaking its fluids it's no longer warm
|
A would-be life is now defunct
|
Glistening mass of fleshy gunk
|
|
[E.C.]
|
[D.C.]
|
|
Hiding in the shadows
|
With the birthing now complete
|
Pick your child up
|
And suckle on its tiny feet
|
Bite them off, devour the rest
|
The body is diminished
|
Take the hanger, lick it clean
|
Your ordeal now is finished
|
|
-----------------
|
The Birthing
|
| Autopsy |
