Frequenters of Deep Webs - Eden Breinich

it won’t be long ’til you’ll be lying limp in your own hands

and you’ll be found, and it stands, that

maggots will emerge and feast

on flaccid meat and ashes of arousal


if virgin blades carve colic cries in your heart

will you wince or keep playing with parts

greasily hunched over a sick LCD screen

mumbling well, someone else would do it


and the babes are your type

well groomed, looking newly baptized

nursed on sweet stockholm syrup

and chained with the smallest of 


gold shackles

that shine bright like camera flashes

we’re too desensitized to blink at

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