Unspeakable (Day Twenty-Two: Intuitive Stir)

Hungry jackals gnaw
on her last gasp
barbed fangs punching holes
into her bloated lungs
her children are crucified
on wire hanger crosses
mob justice as a serenade
ode to a beloved junkie whore


Prompt: Intuitive Stir (interpreted.)

Written for OctPoWriMo 2020. 31 poems, 31 days.

The prompt involved was to pick the first word from a nearby source, and I happened to be listening to music, as I usually am, when I sat down so “unspeakable” became the title.

The writing process was a bit different than usual. I split the expressions into their “artwork” configuration, which reads like prose. In the process, I came up with more lines for this one, but it just felt complete like the way you see now, so I didn’t use them in the end.

In the process, I learned that I have a lot of more typically grindcore like lines in me and that I have to double-check how I spell “serenade” every time I fucking write it.

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