At a peer of
troubled emotions
I saw you coming
with sharp teeths
I thought running away
to the filthy corner
and make my stand
as dicks on glory holes
Then I feel the
power of strap
on a blended emotion
of a sick dirty play
Like a clone of the messy
nature of who I am
I'll bring chains and dogs
to make a feast of beasts
...on your soul.
Vasco Pompaelo*
