Dark voices dance in the mist
the crash of the digital craze
Dark corners that mental itch
Scratching, Breathing, a maze
Soul sucking greedy witch
They say its simply a phase
Treatise of minds fly in the wind
Velveteen missiles spear the day
Weft in the Waffle cream minds
Crazed insurrection leads the way
Norm and Abnorma tie off the binds
Truth withers it dies and there shall lay
No more the prism of concerning good looks
Xylophone masters beat a good tune
Bones in the ground as in certain books
Lair of the mysterious and dirty loon
Scream in the wind the serial cooks
For the meek are taste and a hearty boon
So stank the crazed killer of time
Weird careening missteps fortuneless crime
Ode to the passing of an evil rhyme
At the end you wish the return of your time
So spake and spat the crazed mental rat
The screaming screeching preacher of glorious rants
Sneaking and stalking like a sinister cat
Evil gibbering serial cultists raved as he chants
It is a dream it seems as he stares where he sat
For even a serial killer feels shame when without any pants
Seeing the shadows of the hallowed hidden figures of the medium, mention in riddled but deriven in rhythm, this strange stage people playing truthfully obtuse in standards of decencies, a new generation raised post tv, obscenity no longer a thing in a world of accepted depravity.
Wonderful work my kindred King, my crown bowed down before your precise prose cutting.
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