Hanging a Painting
Stirring up the worthless
is so easy,
like hanging a painting,
first find the spot,
then make the hole
and put everything in place.
When done right
it brings the same pleasure,
location is key.
Inciting the masses,
bringing havoc
to the unsuspecting,
and if allowed to run
long enough
the energy for me
is pure electricity
like licking a live wire,
the same jolts,
same convulsions,
sending me to Nirvana,
bliss,
euphoria.
It's funny,
the vileness of society
tastes so sweet
like the perfect ice cream sundae
on an extremely hot day.
Where to strike next,
you can't decide,
it just hits you.
This one needs a special touch,
a little extra planning,
must set the web just right
like trying to hit the primer
of a bullet with a hammer.
The place hits me
like a safe to the head,
it almost boils the ground
its so strong
and it play out in my head,
now to wait,
I can't stand it,
but I must,
before the fire
you have to strike the match.
Want a taste,
a look through my eyes?
Na.
You ain't getting it,
you'll have to wait,
see it with the rest of society.
I'm the planner,
the head of festivities,
King of diseases,
just reaching my Epiphany,
my unholy need to for fill.
It lays out
like every other desired kill,
my whim
is the worlds curse,
my decision,
reality.
Walls of red,
floors of black,
I'll stain them forever
with the gore from your body.
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