Author Information
Tom Bloomfield At Wellwood
Infliction of relentless suffering---
and repetitious, writhing agony---
upon some live, but weak or helpless thing
is, for your soul, the peak epitome
of life; and brings you to the confirmation
of your twisted, perverse identity.
And this will have brought you to full damnation,
as horrible in its intensity
and as extended through eternity.
No one will hear your shrieks or cringing words---
no more than you heeded cries of small birds,
that you, slowly, tortured. No clemency
will shave a nanosecond from your sentence;
too late you offer too little repentence.
Starward
[*/+/^]
