That thing inside my ribs is like a pile of reptiles,
Pressed on splintered vertebrae, so cold, so claustrophobic,
Echoing in hollow fruit are orders sent with love to you,
To serve a will more shallow still than paramecium
Ill bet your hands are beautiful,
Im sure your head is beautiful,
But the world is ugly,
The world is ugly and its true,
Ill bet your hands are beautiful,
Im sure your head is beautiful,
But with world is ugly,
The world is ugly even after you
Invertebrates now contemplate your lavishing and humble service,
All set to hide behind the guise that this empty thing cant hurt us,
Sensationalized for virgin eyes, its graphic, its disturbing,
And its worse still to think its real,
Degrading and unnerving
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