foul mood fey and twisted with wroth.
I long for your consumption,
to be the burning, grinding, flaming end
to what little hope you have held,
what false projections
of justice and hope with which you color your visions.
breath of cruelty takes me,
smiling blackness over my shoulders peers,
whispering voices churning thought,
come to me so that I may eat you up.
I long to twist.