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A deathly screech is emitted from the night!
A Haunting nocturne shriek shrills within.
And from what demonic voice doth this call hail?
My mortal mind; the creator of sin.
And what a song is this dreadful dirge!
A threnody among the putrefaction!
'Tis the burial rite of humanity
That which taken by peccable action!
But the cries linger on beyond the edge!
Beyond the limit, beyond the slain sages!
For beyond is a land devoid of wisdom!
A glib-tongued tome of myriad pages!
For there lies the wellspring! The fountain of jinx!
From which the nector of that that never sates!
From which the flow of all erratic cause!
The luminous glow of damnation; of hate!
Now gears grind and clockworks creak!
The endless churn of scolding steam!
My mind an industrial garden!
The need for revenge now froths and creams!
But for what need? The need of conquest?
Yes! Oh yes! Avaunt ye innocence!
That which I may rebuke merry kindness!
The lightly o gladdened essence!
And from the contempt I rise replenished.
Yet malnourishment floods, my heart palpitates!
My boney chest throbs with pressing pain!
My bloodshot eyes now titillate!
Beaming they do, towards green-envy!
An obsession takes place, takes form!
My eviscerated thoughts strewn like entrails about!
But only to make a rather rueful reform...
I wake from a dream of ersatz sight,
My breath gasping for sanctification
The footsteps of the tick-tock clock,
now constitute my quintessential abomination.
The pitter-patter of insomnia.
The drip-drop, tick-top of time's precious blood,
floods my ears, as I lie down in dread,
of my own self, now abhorely bred.
I think of my transgression's past.
Never shall it simply leave.
And all the while I shall harbor hate,
In my sanguine lachrymose grief.