No forest is ever full of light

I don't recognise the you that
whispers to me in the darkness.

However your scent recognises me
as it sticks to and stains my nostrils.

It Separates my senses, allows me to
see only my ego and me as a puzzle with missing pieces.

The poison secretes a control frequency through my muscles.

My third eye is bombarded with bloody graphic scenes of potential victims.

That Which makes for a very sated miscrit
parasite getting drunk off my fear and need for retribution.

Only my idea of adequate may be a little twisted, my viscous parasite will have this kill.

Now I recognise the you that whispers to me in the darkness.

You are my altar, my fragmented mind.