Darkness Spreads Over My Art.

In that day, the sun was covered by the clouds.
Not enought light, so darkness surround.
I clutch my fist and trembled in fright.
I sat down my chainsaw and began to write:

"As far as darkness goes,
My nights have been even darker.
Darkness filled my eyes.
Too dark to witness my murders.
My paintings are ruined!"

Because true art is in red.
The world around my killings have became dark.
How can I laugh at the dead,
When my fear is what darkness larks?

I ran my chainsaw again
And felt the warm blood splash upon my face.
I know that the darkness will come,
But in killing time, I have no second to waste.

"The blood of wicked ones splatter for art.
I dug hooks into their skins and heard their screams.
Like classical music, good to my ears.
Wicked blood dries into the grounds of my chambers."