With Passing Glances

by VIcktor Blaq

Your a whore, I vomit obscenities into your lap. You love me don’t you? Where have you been all this time?

SLUT!

Your not a part of me, you figment of reality. A piece of a piece, an imperfect part of the world. I hate you! The blackness of Abbodon doesn’t compare to your grotesque excuses for eyes. Bifrons the king of ghouls has tasted fresher flesh than yours. The morning star is jealous of your tarnished heart. Your harlot ways cast you into Sodom.

BITCH!

I will bathe in your essence and be destroyed by your lust.

FUCK!

could this be love?