finding my fingers

dreaming of destroying the world, i
continue to repress everything that i was - and still
am. months.. years. losing my hands, removing my
arms, discarding my ink ___ replacing all with
that severe, animalistic lust for mass degredation.

HARK. i have found my fingers. somehow, someway,
a beautious thought - a flip, a switch. her/she, the fairy,
that thing within me. i ache to scratch its itch. THEM HER
the christ messiah gorgeous bitch of a muse of mine fucked
my vision and heart and i remembered; i recalled, and
also loved that old feeling, of discarding all behind me,
and throwing all within me, unto his pages.

the weight around me, clasping my immaterial flesh
as if it were my own, keeps the ache at bay. i would
slaughter and fish and eat... that globe of disaster. but
i have bigger plans. for i have found my fingers. YET AGAIN I CAN DRAW!!! oh how glorious a feeling it was.
lost were the screams and gone were the kills,
but here i return. devil king, thrice crowned murder cock,
slayer of white tree skin. we have a voice and we have
so many visions, and every time our penfists hit the
page a million angels die

~b i am come.