Scribbles whirling in mid-air
Bring tears to my eyes.
While clouds of heavy incense
Cling to my thighs.
Magic all around me
Whispers on the breeze.
It blocks my every motion,
Binding me with ease.
Captured by relentless phantoms
That overwhelm my mind
I sink a little deeper
In madness well designed.
Haunted by familiar faces
I walk my past again.
By some arcane mystery
I relive each forgotten sin.
The curse of ruthless furies
Bearing grapes of wrath,
Forcing me to account
For the steps along my path.
Yet I speak no words of penance;
In life, I will no solace find.
For regret has no meaning,
In madness well designed.