Sunday, January 27, 2019

Incantesimo no. 43

Smoke clouds and dead flowers
May the cowards choke on the rotting flesh of their families
 May fourteen generations of their kin suffer the pain of my children tenfold on tenfold
Their bodies mangled from inbred cannibalism
The snake will bite
May the cat drag another rat
 As the bodies lay cold in the night
Let them share the virus in the air
I burn another lock of her hair
My blank stare, a plague seems fair
Protezione per mia vera famiglia
May his mother eat out his eyes in front of me as the wolves rip her face from the skull
Her picked dry skull to be used as a bowl per la moglie mangia the tounges of all their friends and company, Sei un cancro. Non sei niente più di cancro. Mi dispiace.
L'inverno dei Pezzati è bello

Friday, January 4, 2019

The Zombie's Pain

Pain, you don't know pain
Hate, you don't know hate
Anger, you'll never know my rage
This torment inside
It will not go away
But that's okay
The skull on the wall
I can only dig and fade
A taste of decaying flesh
Sweet to the touch
Cold to the taste
I can only die
There is nothing left of me to kill
Nothing left inside to die
     Eat brains

Secrets

She used to watch me as I slept
   She thought about killing me
   She thought about loving me
   Forever in love
   She raised the knife above my chest
   She thought about loving me

I wish she would have stabbed me in the throat
   Anything would be better than this
I wish she stabbed me in the heart
   I do not need it anymore
   Anything would be better than this

Another Year

I like a space that no one really looks at as a place for writing. Do not pay me any mind. It can be that tree falling in the forest with no one around, and that is just fine. It is the way it must be. I can lock myself into oblivion, a dark hole for dwelling and watering my two flowers. Sono niente, sono morte. I can carve out a better world with pain and emptiness. Not feeling pathetic feels better than love. All I have is love, loyalty, and a cardboard box, but it is better to bury them in the desert like a dead snitch. This is to create beauty out of destruction and torment. It is not hiding but rather hibernation. Dormi bene e sogni d'oro. All I need are my two flowers. All I have are these two flowers. Nothing will take my flowers. I miei fiori sono i fiori di forza. Dormi bene e sogni d'oro. Buonanotte.