No Rest For the Wicked

I am the evil poet Evil spells conjured Nine love potions Potent incantations Written on scrolls Bleeding ceaselessly To bleed is to live To write is to breathe With every breath taken More evil awakened Devils on the shoulders Cant be shaken No mistaking for Christmas Ghosts the leeching hosts Life force sucked Not able to duck Can’t escape the chase The noxious race Ballet of death “No rest for the wicked” A snake laying in a Thicket of lies