Am I Satan

Vlad the Impaler, the true Dracula who drank his victims blood to absorb their essence.

Wicked willows wallowing in sweet despair as a cardinal lands on a telephone wire. Rats in walls and roaches in halls, pentagrams and inverted crucifixion. Goat's heads and dreams in baphomets eye.

Paranoia twists life: drugs, fear of burglary, alienation in a place so full of people. Peace is a long lost memory. Assimilation into the tribe.

Psychic clairvoyance to a world outside our own. A world of varying fathoms of evil. Fragments of prescient vision slipping between frightening visions of war. The dogs of war call my name to join their ranks. From outside reality a hundred clawed hands grasp the tattered remains of my psyche.

I self impose a form to make it my own. I use sex to depict an inner pain. I use grass to find perspective. I stand when I play, forcing strange darkness upon an unworthy audience. Lust for the forbidden, donning the forsaken robes. Soiled virgin with the evil seed. Sucked into the womb. Taking thy woman as my own. Aleister Crowley sex magick. Sacred blood orgy.

The inverse psyche. Inverse religion.

Yogic circles. The dragon lady. See you soon.

Prose: Foam (At Anterior Mouth)

Anger, desolation, hate, depravity, longing for the unachievable, enemizing the outside world, place the ego upon a pedestal, worship ecstasy, see only the now, live moment by moment, embrace nothingness.

Chew, swallow, regurgitate, repeat, jaded, afraid to believe anything, relying on own observations, questioning those observations, unable to interpret, no test, no evidence, only the gut reaction.

Childish wonder snuffed out by bleak reality. Unknowable. The education system failed to provide me with the necessary tools to understand the world as it really is. As the scientific consensus says it is. I'm reduced to a husk begging for what it can never have. The time of learning has ended. The time of doing has begun.

I have the critical mind, but it is unable to settle. No answers to be found. I was given the keys to a machine that won't start. It's a gift that does me no good. Opportunities wasted, I dug my own grave. I pay now for the misguided decisions of my youth. I developed the wrong skills. I live a lie. I live the wrong life. No way out in sight. Future is bleak. Perhaps like Dick says, it's all just an illusion.