Pans unborn moonchild
Of the mind wasted away
Alive inside me

never to disclose
the contents of the soul worn
like a dagger up the sleeve

for the pain and strife
of mere existence luddite
nature cares for none

The red horned demon
The satyr, spitting fireball
Whisky in the glass

The demented love
Bile in the glass case awakes
When least expected

And you watch your life
As it passes before you
And you have to laugh

on the pitch of life
Wasted, livid, energy
In your empty room

oh! seraphim why
do I cling to your tough spine
when nirvana awaits

suckling for comfort
to your breast indecision
grafted to your love