Vile filthy creatures are what I think of children. The more I see them the more I think they are there to be destroyed. Evil are their ways to intimidate the less powerful apes to the sea of human ordeals. Quietly, I will sedate them and take them away to rest. Dirty stinging wretched beasts that are what children are filth to the feast and feast they shall become as I fester and feast upon their devilishly gruesome flesh. Down with the demons death to the animals that think they will supersede their maker’s divine fleshiness.
Babies are the tastiest, let them wallow in their shit; let them ferment in self sorrow. I say let them scream in the night for there are far scarier things afoot at night. Do you hear the tapping the gentle midnight rapping the tears slipping past into the night? Do not fear a child’s tears as they fall soundlessly to the ground do not weary your bones as you feel the crunching of bones beneath your gentle step or the tyrant smells of putrid flesh. Death is out there soaring melancholic with its self sad only saddened because it can’t be any sadder.
A child is putrid in the flesh his/her spirit will try to make you think it’s best to envy them to love them to provide for them to give them the best of all things good, but what is good for death is great and in greatness wouldn’t the flesh of a child be yielding the decadence of its wildly misgiving truth? Hear them screaming tyrant children walking trying to never shudder, but to their own utter horror they mutter just a enough for me to hear their silent stutters in the night. By this degree I shout out my true nature for the hunt is on … I tell them to flee if they think they can, but bleed they will as I hunt them down in the midnight hunt. I will spill their blood and make them dream their last dreams.
I will devour all and any who come out of their hiding places who speak of such nonsense as to utter a word or stutter out loud in what they feel is their defense. I will eat them here and there, I will eat them anywhere. I will eat them in the night with all my might; I will crush them and turn them into mush with all my might. I will push them and rush them to flush them down my gullet with just a little bit of something slushy that will not put up a fight.
I will lay out a fine and tasty bait that no ignorant child can ignore. I will tease them with the scent they would not dare to leave alone any child would go crazy just thinking about the bait. I will use it to lead them down the definite descent. They will be seduced and reduced to tumbling like lemmings into a thick crusty blood stew. Oh how gruesome the smell will be as they melt and boil from flesh to bone into my pot they will go.
Children please, please do not be afraid it will only hurt until you are broken, and once you are crushed there will be no more feeling of someone or something choking you to sleep.
Sense of Horror and Poetry