Progress I turn into regress, by:
Means of precise protocols that serve mayhem
And through sadist monstrous impulses:
I'm in pain, I stain (!) order with bedlam
Instruments of destruction I possess
Possessed by demons I am
Killed my darling, the lips are poisonous
Satanic incantations they hum: doomsday come!
Fall kingdom, for my nature is treasonous
More? I could let you have some
My methods of demolition I will confess
As I'm intoxicated with James Cook's rum:
Pointless: kick kick kick a dead horse
Worse: beat a lively one with force
Help send, feel distress, S.O.S.
©juckoon
J