Lips of a Chainsaw

 

An utter madness deep in the genes of feminism. From her macabre heart to her bizarre mind. A chainsaw wielding femme fatale of complete noir. Only a woman, a human but a plague to the thousands of handfuls of the female kind. The agenda of a mass murdering woman with kickin' hips and long legs that connect to ground knocking tightly strapped high heels. With the deepest of red applied to her lips without the excuse of being a filthy w***e. A full tank of gas driving the saw into flesh covered walls, cutting and opening puss pocket wounds, gashing and exploding into a ghastly bang. Another trustful tool, a nail gun, shooting nails into the walls holding limbs. Agony impulse cheeks with bare toes, cringing. Legs tightly intertwine but after internal organs fall through sex organs. Lipstick shells scattered everywhere like bullets only inflicting herself but making her face much more attractive. A warehouse of horrors, a toolbox of tools and hells kitchen all to her own. Making music, a symphonic opera was her masterpiece ended by a silent ambience. Latin was the language she spoke and making out with her own chainsaw is what she loved. She is a professional killer but what flaws she holds she makes up for it in the beauty deep in others. Applying all what lay inside of them to her own, creating much more beauty than a Mother God could ever hope for but with a little help from the devil, she was flawless...