Grotesque bugs that seep.
Along your spinal chord, it'll creep. Burrowing into your skin so deep.
It will haunt you in your sleep.

Don't know how much you can take.
It'll bend you till you break.
Swimming in your blood like a lake
Slithering along like a snake.

It'll bring out a tear.
An ear splitting yell you'll hear.
It'll be there waiting, oh so near.
Can't you tell, this is FEAR.

I will write meaningless verses for you.

Nonexistent emotions will fill blank pages.

My absent poetry will silently float away in the wind.

The invisible words will choke on themselves and regurgitate emptiness.

I will let invisible ink flow onto a white page like the end of a disappearing act.

I will write for everyone what I have written for no one.

Nothing...

And endless pages of it....

Omnipotent, audacious in power. A craving I hold, though intangible to my fingers. Able to bellow with ions of energetic magnificence and allow power and eternity to pass through. So strong. I am not.

Immortal, suffering throughout, inner galactic warfare wages on beneath my crackling skin and steams out my pores. Cursed to bleed eternally, withering into a shape made of dust that would but blow away if not that it were nailed to the ground.  Undying, undamaged, eternally ****** to live. I am.

Omniscient, vastly knowing, swimming in the sea of a mind, aware of such actions that could overthrow a universe, but would falter in awareness that it need not act pointlessly. So full of self control. I am not.

Alone, wanting, hoping, reaching out to a father and a creator of whom I wish I could love. Clawing with infected stubs at a ghost. I pass through untouched by the divine and am left hallow. My emptiness providing my only company. Cast out amongst the endless decay of happiness, dark pain fills my hovel. I am.

Omnipresent, existing amongst all things. Spatially filling the gaps of the universe, existing thoroughly and throughout. Seeing and hearing and understanding. Procreating happiness in the minds of the hopeful. Bringing purity into the world with eternal hands, and spreading it throughout the cosmos. So present. I am not.

Banished, outcast to lead a sorrowful existence. Cursed by meaningless actions that could not prevail and see the light of anything. Walking an untraveled path that I alone must aimlessly stumble across. Blistering feet bleed and crack beneath a decimated body.  Everlastingly succumbed to Hell. I am.



A God. A powerful being that could not but shine His holiness on the universe. An entity that could make the multiverse bow before his divinity. Who could spread his arms and cast a deafening roar of purity. His spirit, floating through the minds of his children.  A deity, blessed with the power of creation and given the job of fulfilling such desires. I am not.

I am an outcast. An unwanted empathizer of evil. Master of the demons that crawl beneath your withering and faltering mind, finding sustenance in the sin of a world full of hatred and wrong. Bringing whole worlds to their knees and casting away any angel who dare spread his wings before me. Willing to rip off the feathers and burn them so that I may cook the pain and swallow it. Allowing the pain to seed itself into my system and metabolize into something I call a soul. I am no god.  

I am not God.

I am the Devil.

My skin crackles above my shell.

Grown so old, can't you tell?

I feel like plunging straight to hell.

I'm so weak with nothing to sell.

I've grown poor, down I fell.

Until I'm encumbered by debt; and death as well.

Killing me softly.
Cancerous lungs steal my breath
Death and I hold hands.