THE ANGRY WORLD: The Forest Near the Furnace

Woods are frightening

fucked up places of extreme mystery

Like the dark

sinister catacombs of my wife’s mind

And the addictive bite of her poisonous loins

The forest reels me in like a cod fish

hooked like a skid row heroin addict

The Boiler City tabloids branded me a killer

A love slave to the black magic necromancer

His electric guitar summoned creatures

Lovecraft

was afraid to describe with his glorious pen

I was bled out beneath the twisted legs of the spider tree

Hemoglobin replaced with ash spewed from the smokestack

of The Cape Horn Furnace Company factory

Some say capitalism is evil

I disagreed when I was a meek human being

Now I am something different

Twisted

And I hunt in this forest for human flesh dinners

Men’s souls for tasty desserts