The joker is an anarchist
and wants only to make a
corpse of you w/a fully
loaded semi-automatic
weapon or rocket launcher,
while laughing an insanely
dark laugh, curling sinister
corners of his insidious
mouth into some depraved
version of a smile or sneer.

Warspeak.

The game of your ruin
is ridden w/tricks & masks
and decoys and fork tongued
promises of ungodly glories
& impossible conquests, magics
but the damned serpent always
whispers still in hissings
& venoms and rotting nauseas
straight to the heart, seducing
the soul and the unwitting
vulnerable child of man & beast.

The grotesque clown orgasms a
sudden chaos on all Things
and all the World becomes a
burning cloud of blackest pain
& sickest lunacy because only
killers can lead you to wisdoms & loves
and teach you that even death
will finally be swept away
w/this natural cold ferocity.