My Craptacular Poetry

NOTE: Rhyming sucks and punctuation is just there for decoration.


Pretty Arctic seals.
Pretty white Arctic seals.
Boats. Fishing boats and nets.
Seals. Entwined in nylon nets.
Coat. $599 on sale.

Chalk line.
Dead corpse.
Pool of Blood.
Pool of blood.
Dead corpse.
Chalk Line.

Golden hair,
bouncing around her shoulders
in shimmering curls.
Two feet long, it falls.
It burns to her scalp,
in .5 seconds.
Oops. Bunsen burner was left on.

How is that so different,
from you and you,
typical suburban lifestyle?


Black silken hair threads its way over her eyes.
Blood slowly drips from the corner of her mouth.
Satisfying her lust with his lifeblood.

She stands above his dead body.
With his hankerchief she wipes her mouth.
The rusty taste fills her mouth and she swallows,
moaning in ecstasy.

Her boots click on the ground as she walks to,
the window.
Drawing open the curtains and inhaling,
the night air.

Softly she glides out, her lust fulfilled.
Blood for blood.
Life for life.
Life is death.

Life and Death

What does it matter?
We're all going to die eventually.
So why should we,
prolong the suffering,
and all the pain?
Life is just,
the slowest and most painful way to die.

That's it for now.. sorry for torturing you with it.