Slither

My head hurts, my bow breaks, these temples of a dogmatic view, clawing out my eyes. Loose upon a violation, I become sick only to force it back from whence it came. Do I have but no control, are these groups of madness so dear to my heart. To be free in death, not to die but linger still, forgetting all concern. These creeping fingers of an ever widening gap between sane and insane, the leap of faith that I’ll ever return to clear sentiment remains clouded. As the fangs deepen their sinking, Is something spilling out. Corrupt the air I breath, the vile leech spits hissing speech, expel this poisonous intention. Where is the dripping tongue, wet with the hunger for perverse illusion. Doth its slithering words rest upon my fate. Hear me now thine broken passage, echoes not returning, like captured meanings grasped by the void. My impressions become weaker, soon I’ll fail to leave even the slightest footprint, becoming a legacy of fading away into the black.

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