DavCrabes

jottify.com/works/fifty-shades…

Yesterday I made my owners raise their ounce of fist. As fate quivered before me, my eyes awoke. My memory is bruised. I crouch and ground myself silent, search the quiet madness against the trained me, and see a waste of wounds. The changes took very slowly, an aged mind holds a child down. With brains shrieking we pay for it with disconcerting TV and putrid plasticity. I feel malevolence towards this curiosity. Just because its legs are moving, don't mean it fucks every time. The hate enveloped and grew complex, devastated genomes to reveal my curious identity, one that causes sense. I'll spit my words like a Mexican, a great throwing-out of chewed history. By the month I'll pantie-throat through those pigs. A window to myself. It takes thick cells, writing and holding this together.

jottify.com/works/of-word-murd…