Empathy With The Devil

<br>My flavor is the stuff of locusts. Hot chili firebrand spitting volcano<br>teeth. Bleeding skies, sulpher mines... The foul breath of Satan`s favorite<br>gutter worm. You feel me when I`m close - an ice wind of steel stilettos<br>hammered in your spine. Quicksilver nausea spinning, spewing forth and<br>everything`s a mess. every posession you ever had - wrecked - lying at your<br>feet. Telegrams that tell you God is dead piled high on the TV. The<br>incessant TV. Burbling. Distorted. A cheesecake nun advertising 20 brands<br>of sea cow lemon shit in 60 different languages. A gargoyle handjives for<br>the hard of hearing. Subliminals. Criminals. Phoney buisinessmen in thick<br>rimmed glasses. Bad comedians. Laughing bags aping the Hallelujah chorus -<br>the forgotton version - out of key (slightly). Just enough to annoy you.<br>My flavor is cheap perfume on rotting Man-Ray maggots! Dead maggots. My<br>flavor`s a wound re-opening by surprise, green fishes eyes flowing out.<br>Wriggling things. Gelatinous. Still alive and screaming - out of key<br>(slightly). Just enough to annoy you. My flavor`s a plunging elevator a<br>millisecond before it hits the cellar. A cellar with mutated rats. Old -<br>very old - lost teeth. Abortions. Garbage. So pungent it hums - out of<br>key (slightly). Just enough to annoy you. My flavor`s your flavor. Deep<br>within you. Hidden. Waiting to get out...