thoughts of vegence

these feet carry a body of vegence,
a soul baying for blood,
in search of a dress on the run,
a brown african daughter i prey,
her picture in mind hang,
her scent in the wind i follow,
she can run but never swift for my rage,
find her if you can,
drag her through those streets,
dump her at my feet,
let her in tears mercy beg,
a deaf ear am ready to give,
my heart she did break,
now,
her bones crush i will,
her flesh i shall reap apart,
over her frail figure i shall dance,
raining blows and kicks,
in laughter i shall drown her moans,
a bull ring i shall plug onto her nose,
a noose of barbed wire around her neck,
and i shall drag her along earth and fire,
feed her with pieces of razor and broken glass,
pump boiling milk into her bloody throat,
nothing gory in such a scene,
her eyes i shall pop out,
her nails shall i pluck off,
her hair i shall on fire set,
and when am done,
and the pain in me gone,
i shall hang her by the tongue,
and let all that is red drain out,
and all that pain she gave me,
shall be forever gone,
till then this femme fatale i go after,
like a bounty hunter in a Clint Eastwood film,
for she took me into the modern wild west,
and now her blood i crave