I sip through that chandelier, Grimm gin
Just deranged with glasses, obsidian tint
Through the cracks of my ribs, does
Does thy heavy panting glint madh?
Like a dead flame, I set ablaze my spade
Burning metal, red and hot as it melts through
Melts through my skin beautifully e'spade
Like a knife through a whipped pastry
Pastry, my worth not enough to be the whole
Or is it? Am I complete when dead or am I
I doubt that too much, I hate to think and
I do what I hate to learn love, do I?
The gin fermented from you, meanderer
A mere fragment of my existence
Extracted, extracted from countless
Countless princes of melancholy
The blood dries out, it liquidates above
Cools, condenses, rains, I harvest
Not a harvester, I'm a proud farmer
A proud ink, crimson ink hoarder
Say, the difference from a collection
Is my immaterial being I'd say
Frankly I'd not, to stay shut
To stay bottled, I can store gin
Gin, ink in it, as the Grimm watches
It watches,keen of nightmares
The child mystifies itself into
A full circle reward, but alas!
To what fun, to what misery
Only a toast to neutrality, this
This unmixed bitter gin is
A bombay ruby turned black
It shapeshifts and eats itself
Fermented by bats, above the kingdom
Or are they dementor'o'lust likewise
They eat apart to eat again, reminiscent
I'm reminiscent of death, love
It came an hour ago, or I lost count
Not commonfolk for my demented despair
Or was it? Don't I remember
Ways I tone down this bitter, bitter gin
Almost killing me thrice of disgust
I tone my worries down for you
Or do I, do it for the blood aftertaste
Is it sadism, or lovesickness
Or a die that lost its way
Inbetween this conundrum
God indeed played dice, the best one
The way of my tribe, it went against it
Ironic to oppose the world being god
And blaming fate or something in the sky
Omnipotent, omnibenovolant
Only am for this mead, I measure
Just 7 cups a minute
To celebrate the divine orchestration
I play my 10th symphony
A toast to the ones
Ones in the cup
What laminal flow, your way to move mesmerising
The thick and viscous fluid, it doesn't spare, love
You call it blood, I call it dear despair if anything
The way thy inkpot self stores my tears, drop by drop
As each one falls down, as the formation made
As I dip my quill into you, I, the harvester of rain
It's not environmental concious, the way I spit blood
All over the beautifully void page, is it?
The blood I spit, I cough, I vomit out do I?
As you push down my chest once, twice
As you break a rib or three, out of love
What brilliant wellwisher, but to no good
My ribs don't create love do they?
I spat out the blood red apple too
Ha-nahash couldn't, just couldn't
Deceive, for I'm anats finest, am I?
Or all this time was it a fluke?
Do I see gorgon instead for,
Have I gone too deep in
In the river as it meanders
Meanders off into what
I'd not like to witness
As the visuals tear me apart
Limb to limb, they do
What dumbfounded interpolation!
Anat, just a cope you're nothing but
But medousa, quite fitting for that as
As I stare into your eternal beauty
As I forever petrify, etch, carve that
That very though in, as I should
As your meanders create lakes
Too many lakes and bows
Will you spit those apples out too, perhaps purify
Perhaps be what you'd love to be, anything but me
Anything over my existance as slabs of meat
Meat sitting over the throne, as you process it
As you rip me apart ear to ear, and I witness you
In your divinity, doing it as you do meander'
The blood turned black it rotted inside
With phylum, rifined ink it is, none else
My blood feels a waste but sure it does
Doesn't help you having it love?
Have some dignity I must say!
You're not a dirtbox are you?
As you flow with my carc do you
One with bones, one with my eyelid
One with my rib, one with my ever watching
Ever conciously insightful, distasteful eye
What ridiculous limb soup, that flows
Packed with, despair and protien
Shant you take a sip, I forbid you
I forbid you on someone not mine
And never will be, just a bystander
Just a spectator I guess
Just beside you on a throne
As I walk towards you, passing eyelids
Can you never hear the screams. sugar?
I'd love to lend you an ear or three
Ill lovingly chop theirs off or mine
Upto your preference is it, or isn't it?
Can I see more benov?