Pervavor
These words Will leave you shaking From the vomit caked Lips that you'd beg with To the ones held captive Down below Close your eyes And I'll take it all A kaleidoscope of degradation Riding swift off molesting hands Spend your heavy eyelids Thanking Jesus Christ You know I'm a coward Let's play hide and seek I'll be your special friend Let's play hide and seek Let's play dead
Submitted by Pestilence — Feb 21, 2026
The scent is unmistakeable. A trunk full of sallow skinsacks, slowly draining fluid through pinhole perforations, so compliant, so terrified. An exquisite boxcutter facelift births a chloroform smile. Ear to ear with crimson jubilance, don't even breathe. Each gasp pulls slivers of rust from your lips, floats them down to your lungs like paper, each shaving of bone fails to grace the floor. Were I not a respected surgeon, I'd act on the urge to wallpaper the room with what's inside you
Submitted by Pestilence — Feb 21, 2026
I've constructed an accolade-worthy masturbatory apparatus from the scraps of your pelvic region. Now I have to inquire, does my soiled verse linger in your ears? "My poison semen will make short work of you," no? Your recollection is just as clouded as your delicate throat was flooded. Draw your untouched eyes to the corner where I've piled the things I've removed, trophies and tools, trophies and tools. All baptized in pools of secretion, whites and reds, whites and reds. A connoisseur of dissection, textbook definition orifice fixation, and the lecherous mind to make use of what's left
Submitted by Pestilence — Feb 21, 2026