Mad House Blues: Part 4



flower grows

among the dead

bodies of children.

Carrion crows tear flesh

and drink congealing blood

as we danced upon the hill

in a drug-fueled orgy of sorts

around cruxifictial silhouettes.

One by one we were martyred for art.

We became the ultimate martifice

Related posts:

Author: Carlo Marx

Carlo Marx is an aspiring writer who hopes that one day he will be taken seriously by the world. As this is unlikely to happen, he will continue to milk himself of all art to try and appease it. (PS: He has finally sorted out everything regards pseudonums, etc. so there wil be no more changes from now on.)

Share This Post On

1 Comment

Submit a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>