deepundergroundpoetry.com

Fickle
Watch as I rise
Twist the dark and arc
seeking on the airs tonight for sight
Little sinister stirrings whisper
gentle stress is disturbed
it is too needy now
Confess to the saints
I am numb in the emptiness
Disturb the prophets
it's written on the wall
do not trespass
Jesting in the background is lust
carousing in the void
stirring up madness
It is avoidable
Turn the screws and alter
It's in your desire you bleed
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