Cute little frolicsome maidens dance the fiery may pole.

Death’s Muse says…

Death is my lover. My existence.  My fancy.  My thrill. ..

“The lights of life are taken too lightly.  The values of life are taken too easily.  The beauty of life is a thing easily basted in acid and turned to the vile pools of toxic waste. Man babies and fat boy’s, cowards and useful idiots, dominance lovers, aggressive fools, professional idiots and craven stumps of souls with no background get their jollies, their self extatic flagellation from playing at being worthy of taking a breath. They are the deniers of valor and sin.  They stoop to pledge the emptiness of existence and the loss of hope.  The wasteful demons of a vermin filled world.”

The vast panorama of civilization has many eddy’s where the hidden toxicity of the universe seeps in and degraded the scene and all who touch it.  By choice the fat one and his vile ones embrace more death than Death offers.  They embrace the anti matter of thought, pride, honor, hope virtue.  Toxic waste be thy name.

Death’s muse choked away the tears of distain as she thought of the worthless world she would administer were the punkettes of fat boy allowed to reign free and devolve into even more worthless  punkettes

She had spent her charmed existence in the mix of the grand explosions of human passions, the grand searches for and anticipation of climax, the tense questioning of soul.  This all could be gone in a flash of banal worms and rancid larva.

Sucker’s everywhere fill in ecstatic  lust when they immerse themselves in their twisted orientations of orgasms contemplating the dream of fat boy ..Debasement and self loathing are the rewards of climax ..over and over again.  Repressed improper lusts haunt their souls.  Amy could not work well with these deviants of time… Death could not erase their stink.  Hell could not embrace them.  The pits of American debasement welcome them.

Sincere apologies go out to Death and Death’s muse Amy for the loss of their imperfect universe.  Fat boy and the deplorables set time and space into an inebriated vile spiral which makes life itself a won ton thing.

Cute little frolicsome maidens dance the fiery may pole.