Pumping Chaos

Living the dark adrenaline,
pumping chaos out my pores,
touched by the pulse.

With a dose of quackery
straight from my pen
in my requiem...
Amen.

But! who is the fool?
touched by Tarot
and jester of
death's charity?
Without a moral compass.

As shadows pass over
your parade
left behind in the weeds...
Amen.

Passing judgment
on a whim of idiocy,
because it doesn't pass
your slide rule.
But! who is the fool?