whisperingquill

Vantablack Viking

I walk with Cerberus,
he has three heads.

You have one aorta,
there is no second course.

Fickle fractured
honey laced intrusion,

ectoplasmic collapse
within your essence.

Your mind
recoils in horror,

at the inkling of
my existence.

Stardust is my lethargic
hypnotic inebriation.

Jugular pumping
rocky plasma
to the central
lighted chamber,

I creep in,

this ominous cloud
of misery.

Deadly ferocity
coaxing you to
come out and play,

no stanza
now this is
relative
transparency.

Reflecting ones claims,
of it not being their time.

Why fear for again
I will come,

one cannot learn
every aspect
from one shine,

many,

oh so many,

glows one
can generate,

leaving footprints across
the rift of solace,

solitude constructed
by omniscience.

I have my job,

vagabond of
displaced breaths.

Collector of greatest debt,

to inhale fresh light of life
one rots from initial cry.

Slowly withering,

into memory ,

leave your mark
I\'ll let it be.

Scratch the itch
of others complexity.

Leave them adrift in
complacent dexterity,

I am persistent personification
pleasantly potent.

Ancient concurrent
eclectic deity,

absorbed by time,

consumed by the cosmos,

unblemished from reason.

Vantablack I am,

lights,

repository,

ship of wonders
amassed from souls.