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.