You're a floated Liver of sins, my friend
When you disrobe in-front of the mirror-unmarred
You find yourself bloated and ill hued
The excess soil in your cuss
has stoppered
What you’ve amassed in free wanting
has driven you into a clot
Your consumption has padded you to reach a total
and all you can do is amount upon the scale of mammal judgement
and feast upon your grave
Look to your pillow and it’s embroideries !
Can you make out the words ?
‘A pleasured out beast of glut and ego
Unwealthy and devoid’

A poets archive speaks in volumes.
I've got so many. Look at them grow.
Your a person who speaks in volumes.
And I'm afraid I have to go.

I'm a poet much less.
Or maybe not at all.
For this many words I'll be blessed
I'm a person much more.
Passion and heart.
Of this im sure only few will adore.

The pale ghost of dawn
A grove of trees
Faded derelicts
Without leaves
A tracery of branches
Bent and twisted
Shades of grey
On a cold, grim day.

Disaffection
Evil minds online
Contempt fro coquetry
Worshippers of perversity
A prelude to profanity
Barely covering
Membranes of morality
On the dark side of the mind.

Satisfied smirk on my face,
I revel
In your misery.