The Gospel of the Rauschmonstrum by Nick LaTorre

We all need a little small besotted alky in some cupboard for our comfort and serenity. Eins! Zwei! Drei! Prosit! One more bottle on the top of the wall One more drunky at the foot of the wall One more wino at large in society Counting his toes he can’t even see He has forgotten to take off his shoes The clock rings the hours the tosspot can’t count Some dog barks in some barn the juicehead can’t hear Beer flows down his throat like a tsunami in Japan The tropical storm grows into a hurricane And the piss artist wets his pants and bed Don’t worry, good law-abiding citizens, between pussy-grabbing episodes, these spongy hop heads will run for elections and win them ending up in the Senate, the House of Representatives and even the White House. And we are the brainless nincompoops of the fable. God is frankly dead and replaced by some supernatural monster straight out of Dean, and Sam Winchester’s delirium tremens of a series, a shapeshifter par excellence who (? Shouldn’t it be that) can haunt anyone, visit any place and replace any character on this stage dedicated to strutting nincompoops.

It is a depiction of what the world becomes when the truth is smoke and spirits are alcoholic. THE GOSPEL OF THE RAUSCHMONSTRUM THE RISE AND FALL OF THE HORDE by NICK LA TORRE Welcome to the universe of this Nick La Torre.

The Gospel of the Rauschmonstrum by Nick LaTorre