Final Goregasm

A mental eclipse, a lunar month. Calendars and voices are all the vices. Extreme passion unfulfilled, pummelling you into submission. Chaos all around, I bury you in the ground. All this is not real, a demented destination, dying to destroy... Visions of hands manipulating life, creating death. Deaths hands diving in your skin, cold steel across your neck, clotting blood at the source of my brain. It is never enough, a fatal addiction supreme orgasm, instant gratification at the sight of your demise. All the torment was just a festering lie, every word watered down, every noise cloaked in gore, a final goodbye to you, my lovely whore.