October 29, 1977 II: Rapists in the Timber

Icicle toungues and Rose Thorn Switches
The dead eye stares of lanky twisted surrogate bitches
A cracked and crooked asylum at the edge of the midnight woods
Tentacle trees protrude from the ironclad firmament
Dirt speckled flick
Grinded his spinal scars
Fifteen years since his first day
Fifteen seconds since he escaped
Fifteen seconds from the rapists in the timber
The maurading cannibals, hunger for the tenderloin muscles
Panting from his foam sudded toungue
the Wolf emerged from the darkness
Like a holy sin-eater
Flesh hung off its jagged teeth
Omega made it
Sunshine reflected from black, sad eyes