I’m a cult of one,
An acolyte of the written word,
Cloaked in a dressing gown robe,
I sit at this altar,
This writing desk,
My sacrificial pen in my clutches,

I begin the ritual,
My bloodshot mind’s eye,
Calls to dark places,
This page is the sacrifice,
To the voices between worlds,
The leaden weight of baneful gods,

By the end,
I am all sweat and aches,
The ritual is complete,
The words are on the damned page,
Creative aether,
Madness in letters.

Comments
  1. Kaylen says:

    Beautifully written. I adore this poem.

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