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Poem

Turn of the table, legs still brittle but able, fables of gold,
old storys told to make a man rise above most,
stronger than kronos, come right back like a yo yo, dont get yolo, 
got one life in this cosmos,
i smell burnt toast, its a roast on me,
clearly nothings free cause in order to be,
you must live without sin or be a slave to the beast of burden, 
hearts hurtin, n kwirkin, its swirlin to a new shape of mournin,
filthy heretic, dirty intent,
to make my mind bend to new thoughts of ideas,
tryin to steer me clear of my own thoughts I've been thinkin for years,
my tears fall no more, 
don't answer to unfamiliar knocks on the door,
open it to a napkin of chloroform, straight to the floor,
shag carpet, where I lay was marked with.. 
The outlines of face and body, 
no time to say goodbye or sorry, 
tippin the ferryman, two gold coins to cross the river Styx,
lost souls scratchin and itchin at my boat,
startin to think its more likely to sink than float, 
lost hope to see the light, all they can see is endless night,
I'm at the doors of hells might, 
my body feels over run with blight,
see the devil and I think fight,
but to much pain to move, the devil says I'm a crazy fool,
I ask "who are you", 
blinded by my question, 
I bring him back to school, 
you say I'm a fool, but you what do you rule, 
the king of gruel, drool and fools, your a tool,
implemented by gods you swore to finish, 
now you're finished, and more than a minute more,
you'll be sucked away from my storm.

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