Aesthetics of carnage

-
My belly is a voracious beast, eager to tremors ;
it pukes strings of atrocities
gulps of tremulous terror
and sensual anxiety
without any purpose —

just for the killing joy 
for the sensorial massacre
and the terebrant chant
— and the scarlet hole
in the skull
of the present.
-

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Cut-up alley

guts torn along alleys darkened by howler assassins warm heart snatched gray wall agony sawn neck dazed blade rusty dull my entrails on the table sheared light drilled multiple vertical crack slow impalement walking through the cut-throat street broken ribs hoping for some headless glow cracking the cartilage of the spear yelling loud twirling blinding furious cock singing upcoming murders licking sweet thighs killer Bone gleaming biting hilarious rump steak blood mixed with fresh brains spattered on Mary's cleavage the artist is not an ego she went home licking her own tits  that's my skull  “the-flow-flows” could coincide with : SILENCE