They say to face your demons, but I am one.
Never been no godly son,
No path to light,
Only clouded paths to false enlightenment,
Over blackened seas of bad blood deep,
Bad blood transfusion seeps from fallen goddesses,
Into my mouth as my bad blood to keep.
Born evil,
Evil borne,
A stained glass mirror is no transition lens.
Iris red,
Pupils dilate,
A pupil to the anti-saint;
I’m offering to die sooner than late.
He lets me peer into hell’s oculus rift,
Sifting through the future’s past exploitation of inaction
potential,
Electric misfiring bringing fires of chaos to my dispense.
My head is a sanctimonious sanctuary,
Ashes of cremated past selves,
I’s occupy a pedestal of death,
I sacrifice all that I have left.
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