No one we/you/they/I know.

But for the love of god I am sick of the pit of disrepair,

keep me away from way down there.


Fickle Demon

Fickle Demon

This broken thing,

Through my door it came,



Climbing the nights toxic vapors from my lungs,

My chants of inquisition to the darkness,

The dark,

It took me,

And I see,

A stealthy gloom,


Around my pulser caressed.

This broken thing,

Is stupid.

For now it’s trapped inside me alone.

Till death, It will not escape or take control.

Blessings to the next harbourer,

Of this,

This broken thing,

Of what dark warriors sing.