In the shadows of whispers
he lights 3 candles black
spills his blood from his wrists
casting for a wise world
he calls to his own
spitting whiskey to the flames

His toxic soul turns black
as he drinks poison sweet
on his lips he prays
for it never will surrender
he is casting
for a wise world

He calls his own
to bite spit and rip apart
he smiles as his own
come to kneel to him
each a glory of war
******* in a wise world

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris