Ooh
Now that I have my trophy
of your anatomy.
Your stiff can be excised, aberrantly.
Convulsions
transpire
you're seeping suppuration
Our intamacy
is arcane to culture
These ethics I contain
in my arsenal of pleasure
Fail to be appreciated.
Your proposition isn't good enough.
My expectations don't meet yours.
In due time I'll dictate your vile form,
Into my incapable hands
and claim you for my
own.
You're born
into,
these hands,
again.
Send the slut
back to Hell!
Send the slut
back to Hell!
Send the slut
back to Hell!
Send the slut
back to Hell!
Another whore to seek.
to fondle and misuse.
Back to the grave,
to exhume again.
