Seven Horns By Scott Thomas Outlar

Neurons frayed from a lack of sleep done purposefully just to reach an altered state so the words will flow from the bowels of a fiery abyss. Add coffee and nicotine to the party and achieve a purge of pacifism which opens the gates for raw rage to saunter through with a rant against the damned fools of this decadent world.

Wear a crown of thorns as the halo comes falling down with withered roses rumbling from the far side of the darkest chasm. Seven horns of death pierce the flesh straight to the marrow to spill toxic blood of a degenerate nature and send the gene swarm back to the entropic void where the devil’s minions wait with glee to swallow the last breath as oxygen expires.

Heavy metal apocalypse of revelation fever furiously swarming the scene with polluted veins spilling forth a final fatal kiss … then tossed off to the broken abyss with a silent sigh toward the last goodbye.

Scott Thomas Outlar survived the chaos of both the fire and the flood…barely. Now he spends the hours flowing and fluxing with the tide of the Tao River while laughing at and/or weeping over life’s existential nature. His words have appeared in venues such as The First Line, Harbinger Asylum, Yellow Chair Review, Dissident Voice, and Belle Reve Literary Journal. Links to his published works can be found at