With my tribulations on trial,
I smile with the pride of a lion
laying upon its trimmed victim.   
Eyes that of a drug addled cannibal,
soul that of an ink stain.
Black harvest moon, evil like my fingers
lingering too long on long forgotten chords.
I'm bored, and that is a sin.
A win for the devils of chewed intellect.
Victory for the ignorant of heart.