The first day I awoke into the darkness.
As I tried to find light and regain my bearings,
I heard the faint chanting of prayers,
Chanting their way inside me.
In time I found myself upon a Bathamet,
An unholy alter that told me it was heaven.
I spotted angels dropping from above,
Dropping down from their Christmas trees.
Whilst making love with my demagogue
And watching all hell rain down from the starlit sky,
I was cast aside for another in a shower of blood,
I realise now,
I was never made to be loved.
The seventh day I awoke into a monastery.
Spattering blood in my torchlit chamber,
I remembered the dint of her blue eyed gaze,
And arose to another day of pain.
Crawling across the ceiling,
Scheming vengeance from the beams,
I stab you with demonic poetry
so that you may read about all the hate
You left here inside my brain.
