Bloody Poems - Poem

I write bloody poems
Dark and sick and gloomy and hopeless
Dooms and abyss and endless spirals
Mirror the words of sour and caustic
Am I here in these types and inks?
Or the bitter friend of repression
Has his time to seek
Why does it an id or ego
Or Super Ego
Has a sexist
In the curves and bulges of blobby flesh
Wait till I surpass in coming verse
In fresh disgust and outlet for lust
Spoons of those are sipped or shoved
As dirt and lewd becomes cousins
In a dogma
Of sins and guilt
Gripe and grudge
Has swept the air from middle of brow
Resides the fictitious image of façade
As symbol of inner within
Of cherubic delicacy
When floating feet looming the crystal sea
On the lines of endless horizon
Stepping on colours on clouds
Sitting beside the doves and blue
I write bloody poems 
I really do.