I was conceived when PaperMate and Bic decided to Cross paths, breaking my silence
Immediately I went into action, instinctively feeding on unspoken thoughts of violence
Sucking vital cerebral think-ink from unused mental lobes of the emotional living dead
Leaving my victims drained and thought-less, with two punctures on the side of their head
No longer will the selfishly weak flourish, creating unnecessary strife for the living
I roam through cities at night, stalking and waiting to consume those who relay misgivings
Watching their flesh turn pale and eye balls roll up to the whites, as I drink-up every last drop
Shriveled up corpses crumble and fall, like a finished juice box sucked down non-stop
I don't discriminate race, I seek unused mental states, so what if you're poor or rich
Then let out a creative scream, scribing new thoughts like a poetic fiend, because...
I'M COUNT INKULA BITCH!!!!...