Bliss In Death Of The Serial Kind Poem by Eric Markisen

Bliss In Death Of The Serial Kind



clenched fists with intentions to kill
nothing can stop the feeling
bludgeoning to death
his victims yell
the only thing stoping him from heaven
is hell
rip them apart
drink the blood
complete the bliss
touch her cold dead lips
never have you felt anything
with such tenderness
yet you feel the burning
from the inside out
never have you wanted to shout
so much to kill the wound it delt
the wound has now become a sore
dont worry my son
she is no more
and you take the wound
and skin it clean
till it worries of filth and pain are gone
to rest with the souls of the dead
and other lives that have lived and bled
misfortunes of their past life
they lived and died
with the knife

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Eric Markisen

Eric Markisen

Somewhere in Florida
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