My heart is trash
It spills its juice...

Through the cracks
She sadly slips...

Stalking midnights murky grove
Along alien shore quick to roam...

The plague pits, far from empty
Stir beneath your feet...

You think he’s the devil
But he has prayed for you...

Beyond oaken facade dark and worn
What monsters conceived and born...

My book is one for masochists
They wrote the epilogue for me in hate...

No solace in dark dreams
In sleep there’s just dread...

The father asked for a cliche
He moulded us in this way...

The leaves die and fall
Some cling on like a rat in a dry well...

Through king of man provoking fear
While god like saints walk apse of white...

As a gentleman you’ll tip your hat to me
Whilst slowly popping off my fingernails...