I get lost in my thoughts sometimes.
Devoured in magical words,
curses,
the verbs,
all mangled they still make the verse.
Sometimes I can make it work.
Voices consuming, indulging in the mortal things,
we've been all taught to die for.
In the mind of an ominous being what is there to lie for?
Everything.
Manage a mixture, of liquor and the blood of thine enemy.
Constricted with vindictive instinctual urge, to destroy the feelings.
----
Singe the lungs till the breath taste like fumes and the nictine replace the integrity you've used, up straight up sucked and dried up.
