Voyeurs not readers
Worshipping skin
Of where lust begins
Stuck in-between pages
As hormones rage on
Against the grain of aspiration
Cataclysmic art
Beware of the disease foddering mold
Desperate for attention
For those without a thought of their own
Ah, A book of flesh created
Published with devious blood
Demonized to the public
By seedy eyes
Planting walking euthanasia
Oh, Do you see it?
The line to mental collapse adorations
Peer to the front
And see how pathetic they look
Captured by the seduction of lust
They saw the cover
Already made up their minds
Worshipped without reading
Only to become the portal
To a realm of a new pandemic suffrage
Aligned to the list that corrosively binds
Now they are each dying word
For those who can now read their demise
As the ink is made of genocide
Swallowed by the fiery hour glass of eternity
Their pain extends
Beyond what our own imaginations
Could ever defy
Written By,
James Darwin Smith II
3/28/10
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