Poetry Don't Work On Whores

She throws herself at pedestrians
Because that's what society dictates
An offering to the celluloid gods
Orange coated in their worthless majesty
A dry hole in her body creates a vacuum
That engulfs everything she touches
It could set the polar ice caps on fire
Uncover Atlantis as a barren desert
I feel blessed that she walked past me
As if I dodged a bullet coated in disease

Empty V

Carrot people conceive when young '

Mating habits consisting of brainless grinding

Idiots watched and praised by imbeciles

Every blink is for the celluloid

Since charity and true love are out of season

America sodomizing itself with "culture"

Our country comes closer to death with every new contract

Two seasons, too many replicas

Someday we'll bury the celebrities deep

Or we bury the country with our dignity