Desolate my mind bends
in saturated worlds
treacherous scabs cover my eyes
once again i bleed from puss filled scars
poverty bound this cancerous echode
deepens in my sorrow.
Backs bent, doubled on blistered knees
in the shadow of the afterlife
a place to detest those ever pittying reptiles.
In memory, though faint now
with visions of smiles and eyes then bright
but torn from sockets and cast into deep ravines
with tumors and malignant hands.
Tight grips around you're throat
you're heart ripped out and destroyed
many will perish tonight
this hell called life is a biter demise.

c. andrew bedell 2007