Unreleased, Now You Know Why.
The family are all dead.
Mummy's head lies at the foot of the stairs,
The body at the top.
Very unfortunate circumstances.
Daddy sits in his chair
Pinned to it with a pitch-fork.
Son has hatchet lodged in face.
Very unpleasant.
Daughter sliced open
Lying dead in her cot.
Unsightly.
Grandma's head flattened in hydraulic press.
Grandad died slowly cut his own throat
With shiny blade.
The family are all dead.
Pitch black, I awake.
My dreams are fantastic.
Small fantasies of Ugly Bastards
Puking till rigor-mortis.
Yes, Oh yes. Plenty shall die.
To the guillotine with the retards.
To the pit with the handicapped.
Absolutely awful to the onlookers
To see a doggy girl with
Daddy's sick dribbling from her chin.
I can't count,
But there were plenty of burnt bodies.
Oh my Demon, I'm very excited.
Confidently smiling, I stand at the edge of the carnage.
Observing.
Assessing the dark grim-looking machines.
Back and forth they trudge,
Pumping hellish roars.
On closer inspection, I see frightened children.
There are many dead, many mutilated.
All doomed.
And what of the survivors?
What of them.
Postponing their imminent slow, merciless
Agonizing deaths.
I take notes in shorthand,
Admiring the style of the machine.
Five days and nights have gone by,
And still I stand alone.
There is a calm breeze
Filled with a stench of Disturbed Murders.
Frenzied animals scamper into undergrowth.
Machines chase in hot pursuit.
Little hope of survival.
Unwanted agony, given.
Killing never felt so good.
Corpses never smelt so good.
A little blood never hurt anyone.
That's what my dad used to say.
That was before I had those strange feelings.
Pitch-fork in one hand,
Mummy's head in the other.
I love you Mummy.
I love all the family.
Hammer at hand,
I enter the Confession Box.
The priest waited with forgiveness in his heart.
Very unfortunate for the Novice Priest.
Death beyond reality.
Exceptional dreams of impalation!
Leper peasants crucified
While children frown.