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Damn fuck beast, you mumble as I tremble
inside. All at once it’s a throng of beasts
bellowing through you; the stars of your skull
quail and the moon, that great gray glob of grease
and grime and gaudy guts flashes and goes
out. This is how love should end: in carnage
and fire from beastly hoofs. Owl knows. Crow knows.
Kronos knows. I pound your cum into sludge;
wallop your lust, turn your climax all grungy
grim. Love is messy, like children’s street songs,
like minced up monkey meat. As I withdraw,
I leave my beastly snail’s trail of jolly
havoc behind. I’m that which gaily wrongs
you; the only one who gulps you down, raw.