Compatible with Hell

Write one sentence, then write another without violating the previous one.

A note and warning: this is the darkest thing I have ever written. I don’t normally preface my writing exercises, but this one deserves one. This is the darkest thing I have ever written and I don’t know where it came from. Just letting the pen flow while trying to create a poem featuring a non-sad/sympathetic character like all my other poems seem to have. I was also thinking about Adam Carolla’s book Not Taco Bell Material, although that book has nothing to do with this writing, it was just what I was thinking of when I wrote it. This poem really disturbed me and so I feel the best thing to do is to put it out there, not bottle it up inside; as a filmmaker and creative person, I cannot censor myself, even if that non-censorship takes me dark places.

Okay, here goes:


Once there was a boy, there was a boy named Bill.
Bill was very handsome, and an expert with drills.
He worked in construction, building buildings and houses,
he was not married, no wives and no spouses.
But he was very attractive, like I already said,
girls loved to be with him, he got lots of head.
Yes, Bill was a ladies man, he scored left and right,
all sorts of different ones, black, white, Asian, always tight.

Always tight cause he like young ones, that’s who he did like.
Eighteen or nineteen, older girls gave him a fright.
There’s something about teens, they made him feel good,
all sweet and so innocent, such positive moods.
And so he trolled colleges, searching for girls in 13th grade,
and yes, he was attractive, so connections he made.
But still he felt lacking, something wasn’t all there,
so he went even younger, where girls have their souls left to bare.

Yes he went down to high school, where girls are cute and sweet,
even compared to those college ones, these couldn’t be beat.
He did what he could, picked them up after school,
took them to his house, did them in his pool.
But this did not last long, soon the cops found out.
They attacked and jailed him, with them he had no clout.
And now Bill’s locked up, he’s thrown behind bars,
the only trace of him is families with emotional scars.
That’s the end of Bill’s life, he’ll rot in his cell,
all because he had urges only compatible with hell.


About Gabriel Bruskoff
I make movies! See for more information.

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