Why You Don'T Give Mad Men Diaries - Poem by Steven Hoon
Your soul is stuck in Limbo after you met your needs.
You sicken yourself f*cking anything that bleeds.
Your life is meaningless so go find anouther love.
One as dead as a doornail, and as pale as a dove.
You are no longer a necessity in my anatomy.
Never again will you dig into the depths of my insanity.
I've ripped out my brain.
And replaced it with pain.
I am filled with distain.
I try to restrain.
But your corpse calls out to me.
In a most elegant plea.
And now what I must do is clear.
I will die to be with you, dear.
One last time...
You make my blood boil with malice.
The times you've betrayed me are countless.
Tie you down, its fine please don't cry.
I won't forgive you until you die.
No anesthesia will be applied in this autopsy.
My bone-saw glimmers at the sight of your anatomy.
If the police come to my house, and ask how you died.
I will slit your wrist and clam it was a suicide.
As I sever the muscles from your bones you let out a sigh of pain.
I pour bleach on the f*cking wound to make sure it doesn't f*cking stain.
Are you enjoying being a puppet in my called operation?
I will let you say goodbye to your limbs before I seperate them.
Welcome all, come right in, and see the product of my sin.
I'll draw you in with my halitosis, then murder you like kin.
Glorify the razor blade, and embrace it's warming kiss.
Pray your body goes into shock before I begin this.
Bodies hanging from the ceiling tile.
My obituary has spread half a mile.
You will not fine peace once in your grave.
In a cemetery you will be my slave.
Decaying body, drain its blood, then put it back under the floor.
Imbibe a little, look at the corpse, then make it your whore.
Look her in the eyes, then penetrate this beautiful cadaver.
You had to wait til she was dead until you could have her.
Satifaction fills this lust you have for the dead.
Putrid seething fluids spill, your obsession is fed
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