The Monster A cloak of decadence hangs over its haggard shoulders, Dragging, like a cluster of chains, Grinding the

concrete raring to leave a legacy. Its head protrudes from the darkness, A shell stained with keen blades. With eyes like pits of prejudice stabbed upon its face. Its arms schlepp at its sides, Withered branches tapering to blunted reservation. A black soul, lumbering and traipsing through the wastes. Its brain boils with a billion faces. Each has eyes of envy, guilt or lust. It imagines a forest of lovers, Rising out of the concrete blackness. A billion nations waiting to fuck And sustain its androgynous self. It lumbers on through the entropic streets, Submissive to beasts of judgment and unnatural relations Gathering like pebbles at its bleeding feet. It sees in the distance a boy. He is clutching close a guitar and enchanting a faceless crowd, With abhorrent words of unearned melancholy. It lifts the boy from his place peering into his eyes. “Obey!” exclaims the boy. The wilted branches of hands grow tighter, Crushing every fiber of him until only a pile of designer dirt exists. It presses on, passing by men and women who fuck and die. It doesn’t batter and eye at the ocean of blood bathing presidents. Then it sees her. An illusion at first, creating a picket fence in its mind. A life of absolute perfection. The toxic taste of her lips wrapping around its carnivorous cock As its teeth sink into her skin and her cunt spills out an angelic chorus. Fulfillment erodes his mind and the glass half empties. The creature trudges forth through the black and white streets Watching the city crumble like the edge of a cliff, Falling into oblivion, wandering, searching and needing more.

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