he was a frivolous anathema loathed for his neverending stomach-on-stomachs romance partially dismissed by his folks for being only in half a steak-eater hungry for a constant flux of admiration but just to have it served, for free, no work he’d just wait there with his fork admitting any guest, not letting any out sanctified with lard justified with ketchup oh, how did Mr. Wolf want to be a shepherd milk believer and honey denier he ambulated around his promised land like he resented walking scratching the ground with his unbelieving feet defying the sunlight with the black holes in his eyes [he wears a necklace made of his victims’ teeth under his designer shirt and a suit but the truth of it is in another world hidden in subcutaneous metaphors where a warrior meets a narcissus amidst a battle of forbidden words] his blessings turned into winter storms [Mr. Wolf cannot lose one game he dines and wines defeats his concubine creates new reasons for dying] ...
Posts
