Indoles

I am the unholy genius
Of lunacy
Ensconced in the mind
Of a child

Dis

Connected

From your version
Of reality
Perceiving truths
That would leave you
Trembling
Where I nod
Knowingly

With no filter twixt brain
And mouth
I lay waste to your mockery
Pathetic Correctness
Has no friend in me

My laughter grates
More than hinting
At so called
Evil
As I lampoon you world
Seeking
Not jocularity

Rather

Your jugular

Yes

I am a child still
Feeding of the leprous teat
Of your dying mind

© 2011, Mosquitobyte