Upon my verses

The phonetic lymph
of those unseen demons
makes me sully
my pages.

And these dodgy thoughts
assembled by an iconoclast mind
feast on my flesh.

Other -
rotten doll
among the living
I sidle
like a spider
frightened and hated
black and loner.

I drown in the atrocious chasm
caught by
your abyssal eyes.

And this oxymoron gossamer
enshrouds me and
kills me.

I die
scattered
upon my verses.