Snarl with the talented Everavalon and Adagio

 
furious and seething
my teeth gnashing
snarling on the dead air
souls grip tearing into the souls of the innocent
gorging on the misery present
slothful, they fatten on the sorrow of others

drawing my dagger
with a heavy arc stab at the seeping sore
let the infection leak out
then draw a ward never let it be again
the spirits emerge looking hungry

growling I dare you
dopplegangers with no faith
parading around with facades of beauty
when inside teaming always scheming
their agendas revulse

the heady stench hits my senses and I wretch
then strike at the heart of the beast
reaching in I snuff out the disease
maligning and ugly it should have never been

my stomach convulses—
this errant stench of infection empties my voice
and sears my wings
I am the misbegotten
still clinging to the woe that defines me;
mindful only of my scars  

Lingering over the coals
I tread deep into the devil’s den
heading a steady pace into this weathered wasteland
feeding the ashes of tainted lies
from the pewter chalice of a ripped cud
with talons borne of a phallic mind
dripping red brine; fetid blood
conceived by seed from the demon's thighs
with the catheter of a depraved soul

I sharpen these talons on the bone
of a reapers armour
Slaves with no chafe
spurns the guise of the idle
in the reeds with the wraith
In dreams with no faith—
An affair of infinite sorrow