Grey clouds billow from your plum mouth.
A painful memory hanging in the swirls.
Times forgotten list; names scrawled in evil's ink.
Linked to your past indifference's.
For-going, all rhythm or rhyme.

I wish of you, Damon;
To be a purest of heart-
Not selfish, an self serving,
But one owning forgotten presavasion.

Continue your demon ways, smoking your damnation-
Scribbled with hazy mazes, rippling forth.

I beseech thee--
Save yourself from this sin.

But at last, show me mercy, scorched angel.
Rip this rusted dagger from my back-
Let me bleed this infection from my very soul.

No more, I tell you.

Let me be at rest.