I came at the world with words
dripping with the poison that coated my tongue,
not giving a **** about feelings or consequences.

Until a great monster appeared,
charging out of the dark.
Coming in over ultraviolet rays,
infrared, even the radiated gamma bursts,
heading straight in my direction.

It left me wordless,
barely stuttering through the simplest sentences,
lost to the dark magic held within its claws.
Some great unholy wind blew in,
raising dust devils and Cain in its wake,
ghosts appearing in the Firmament.

Now it controls my fingers when I type,
takes hold of the pen when my desire wanes,
it lives in the ink and creates horrible shapes
with horrible meanings and I can do nothing
but allow it to weave the fortunes of the dead.