Of Midnight and Myself...

I’m pinned by fingers of the stars five digits pointing blame, plucking strings of guilt’s guitar the tune always the same. Abominations I committed suspect of sin before the act. My vile vices all admitted be they false or be they fact. The sharp-eyed inquisitions probe their midnight sockets strain. Suspicious brows and listening lobes that comb through hairs of weakened veins. Accountability is dead in a juxtapose of trust and doubt. A galaxy of lies instead: denial draws a drunken drought With broken oaths in pitch of coal, the binaries of clever spies are laughing eyes o’er hollow souls, the lux eyed glare of teflon skies. Alone with Guilt and Midnight stares my anxious conscience grated raw; I weave excuses, phantom snares of why my actions weren’t wrong.