As a hunter who no prey can find
As a painter bereft of their sight
As a genius enslaved by a feeble mind
This be his most gravest plight
Starved of his essence and his will
He plodded in the umbra of his mind
Then something he met to their rapturous thrill
That seeks what gods and friends leave behind
He pleaded, a heart empty of faith and love
“Gore me into art that even devils outbid!”
And the voracious body then taut thereof
Before a cackling shriek, for so they did…
9th May, 2024
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Author:
A.B. Jakobsen (
Offline) - Published: April 16th, 2024 08:28
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
Offline)
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