And the only response
you’ll ever get to your incessant
babbling, your goddamned pain
and meaningless remorse
will always be maniacal
insidious laughter, screeching
cackling and low steely hissing,
murderous snickering
and all the hellbound while
(even while you deceive),
multifarious libraries of grimoires
of your bleeding torment and
hideous corruption are mapped out
and mercilessly executed so precisely
and subtly that even before you were
born, every distraction and each sweetly
perfumed beautiful curve and
delectable morsel had already been
in place watching and waiting for you,
to poison and devour you,
ruin and destroy you,
most comtemptibly.

The bane of your breath and joy
and waking love is older and more
colorful than light and has always
known of your downfall and
what to do and when to do it.

Never have you been free
of the filthy embrace
(nor will you ever be)