When the Tale Still Breathes

As the crimes of the Holocaust, and the Axis,

Were a maniac's heirloom for a puppet show.

Villages burning were not enough,

elements to see six million perish.

In my past memory I spread my arms around your buttocks,

the regions of your a*****e passed into my heart Chakra.

out of an infinite darkness you peed deep into my diaphragm.

I am reaching out to the world.

with the coming of a needed race.

Your a*****e as you say you sit on a man's face,

I hope to embrace, with the tender sentimentality of your shitting in my mouth.

The amber blue regions, to make an olfactory semblance,

of the spirits of my ancestors, and heritage 

 your a*****e s***s, and helps me to sustain.

As I am sucking you now, and resist my persecutors,

Your a*****e, my life's energy, and your s**t are wanting of nothing.

In fact your shitting is a noble oracle of my pulse,

to live a life that is temporary.

Please do s**t and pee again deep into my belly.

Your a*****e is the only reconciliation I need to taste.

That worse  than a storm. These horror tales,

may also be appeased beginning with your a******s golden orbit

to bring me into life and away from the dead.

There may have been a lineage a peasant hood that is now unnamed, 

as i lay in climax,  believing my lips move closer in, 

and my mouth warm and welcoming for your s**t and pee 

your a*****e empties, and fulfills me with the greatest of affirmations.

That my consummation, and consecration is to be myself 

that to live and die, in battle or in peace,

will resolve the limits of my lifespan as your a*****e still will s**t.