The Great Gullet Of Man Poem by Corey Baker

Filled with violence and malformed suspense,
For all the bad sins against an altar that was so intense,
And for the time in the dark reaches of a galaxy far, far, away,
that was forever corupted in the primative Valley of Decay.

Self-mutilation skills are above normal, although that still climb,
and all the King's Men have deserted him upon the Pine.
On High, is the Goddess without hatred, never stopped save the insects, because in the end, all we are is a product of parrcidal sex.

Monkeys to Men? Created by the god? Just came about?
Who knows? Who cares, we're already done and filled with doubt.
No sense in caring now, we are all already dead.
Just waiting to pull the trigger of the gun aimed at our head.