Whoreson of Spurious Joy

I was born of iniquity a whoreson
 of spurious joy with romp and
 caper I have macerated this
 interval between birth and death
 leasing out a deplorable sinuous course.

I beg you, insulate this hoary
one,  draw me to the one who cumbers the barren land
How long must I beg,  relieve me
 from this tattered life of woe
I have nothing left  to give but a pleading that I may eat the
remains of the corpse eating
beetle that crawl through the
eye sockets of my rotting  corpse,

Tear out my tormented brain
ingest my motive for destruction
Finally a  reply to my pleading has been found there on the surface
Long lean knees awkwardly bent,  
his hooves gnarled with an over powering stench

Dripping claws fizz like a decaying wound standing there he glowed
 with a ruddy hue in various  
stages of disease in its lowest
saturation.

His voice a thunderous echo
collapsing my veins causing blood
 to leak  from my ears
Corrupt odor and decay venting
from his putrid hole serrated
fangs with bits of of flesh
hanging free

He spoke again racking  my bones
with pain.
' What I see hoary one  is more
 virtue  than sin
You have abstained from
 fornication you were diligent
 yet only to your  own needs
not mine patiently you waited
here for  me sniveling when
 I arrive  you humble yourself
as you grovel at my feet

All I see to benefit me is your
slothful ways and how you envy
 to be like me
That is where you failed you
can never be like me beg for forgiveness you belong to him