Wibble TheFisch Poems
slits so small and tender each day a little bigger adorning my wrists and thighs bracelets hide from discriminating eyes
The Tattered Remains
the tattered remains lie in the trenches
The Great Sleep
the great sleep has decended. the night's chill is the only comfort.
she has been perfected. nothing shall engross her more,
the aborted little creature lies writhing and scrying.
A Fire Inside
(explanation: i wrote this for part of some contest. yeah it's lame. i know) within the abysmal plain, my soul turns to a flame.
the aborted little creature lies
writhing and scrying.
the qouta has been reached.
it tampers with the material world.
though you may not see it.
the damned little creature
with the exacerbated eyes
tearing away at your soul.
it rips and shreds your heart to pieces