less a scribe, more a fool

the air thrums with potential
heartbursts of compressed
the moon hangs moribund in
sickly shades of amber tinted

and here i lay sadly listening to
the sickly thump hiss of corroded
my mind tangled in webbing from
lies spun in silvery tongued

less a scribe than an idiot awash
in an oceanic tide of crushing
a damned fool trying to not seem
so desperate yet flailing about

a blightfully cancerous lesion in
legion with leprous and lecherous
a pressed blossom between sheets
of vellum coated in inkstained

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