Compass of The Monster

It`s white outside the spectrum I call
my rainbow and my shadow rides it like
there`s no tomorrow.
When the sun is shining brightly
but this winter is never ending.

Not surprising bitter envy is the ocean
unfit for charter for the compass of the
monster has long  been broken.

Clinching fists, eyes of a martyr
for the compass of the monster
has long been broken.

The night is starless, rampaging aimless.
The unmatched destruction swamps the vessels
with heavy wake upon the shores of a heart,
that shoves the incessant hollars to a brain.

Driving with drunken senses, a primal flame
roars like a blaze that turns to ashes
all that jagged claws attempt to kindle.
Monstrous heart pent against a mirror image.

Thus ravaging a soul like a burning village.
Pillaged and plundered assuaged assidious thunder
resignating without requiem in wanton wonder.

How for did I become so lost?
How have I become what I resent the most?
Who birth the monster...
plotted the course?

Made the night starless
broke the compass
cut the chains, unleashed the monster
gave impulse the reigns.

Made me strange to myself
slave to the rage and all of its grip
beating heart, blood in some veins
another breath.

Emptiness, ambition, one hollow breath
recipe not for cooking, but
for conjuring a monster
with a broken compass

How wretched is the grip of a starless monster...