SkaughtPatterson

Spirit of Watchfulness! Daemon of forkéd, truth-worn tongue!
‘Splay before me your divided tale.
Pleasure take in telling your vicious truths, deliver Naivety into the traps of your song.
Honesty uncover where you see fit, and make of foolish man the food of mirth,
Salt the wounded traveler’s hide, Set him hind-ways in his course.
Show me, as you will, my erroneous way moments past misfortune’s ripening.
Walker Between Worlds, Watcher, Meddler, Spirit of Prophetic Malice!
Enter my pen thereby to inherit a worldly immortality, Against your twice otherworldly one.
Grief in your black heart celebrate!
Tombs exhume, Sexton-Phlebotomist, of your victims fallen
And with their clotted blood my pen transfuse.
Let never truer words deal harm!
Jagged cut the fabric, and use my waiting mind, my ears, my tongue,
To carve your visage in the hearts of another world’s men.