Him

He craves your thoughts, it’s true

on this most rufous Tuesday 

brooding  comets thus align

roughed anecdotes by tantalised masses

Hide yourself from incongruous judgement

this guise to rob your inner peace

shhh even the walls have ears

arm yourself with electric artillery

The silence of a falling  caribou

barely visible from the milky way

alchemized  in a broken solace

in lieu of all the haughty overture

His tongue betwixt with perpetual grievance

embroidered with disenchantment, nae ephemeral sadness

Hovers in the abyss of his mind

the inferno of dark fantasies awaits

He strolls in the endless corridor of subconscious manipulation

 shadow chasing the sons of man and demi gods

polishing up a chopping block 

such a wasteful shame, whose next?

Buoying in a runnel of sanctimonious skulls

Fear ornated with sugar and spice

equivalence of a cherished deception

the centrifugal force could not hold water

The king of sorrow, I’ve heard him called

whispering hubris lies to quaint vain ears

friend or fiend what does it matter

already bitten the fruit of death, you have.

2 thoughts on “Him

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