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