old verse from T2
evil is an art form.
abroad, aboard an afloat sail
shadowed dreams and hopes failed,
the savants gloat to no avail;
whilst lunacy grasps my coat tails,
cold, loathed, pale external complexion,
residing in cloaked veils,
damnified for my infernal questing;
thy demons compose tales,
barely clothed, frail; used my wits to coax jail guards to post bail,
alone, stalemate with myself a foul familiar surrounded the walls,
t'was a neap-tide moonlit wednesday as my countenance recalls,
abound in my squalls; studied heterodoxy, surmounted a pause,
a wicked conjurer summoned him; shown, my mouth was in awe,
the mystic conqueror i brought forth to forebode;
"i may bestow definitive knowledge, in exchange for your soul,"
dipped the quill in my vein, found the line, then forged below,
the changeling disappeared in a cloud of extinguished disorder,
i relinquished my quarters; the stench of centuries was remaining,
waning my wisdom, a benefactor for diatomical advances,
dubbed insane, for practice of radical biological enhancements;
alas, the nightfall becomes my diabolical enchantress,
aged of body, not mind, face is shoddy, form is dilapidated, a rustic,
pericardium is deactivating the cusped, aggravated and disgusted,
organs slowly agitated and busted, literally no equivalent;
anonymous, accept no credit although my ideas captivated the public,
a necromancer, death is imminent impaired speech from awful cankers,
breath is limited; for i am in pursuit of that shifty doppelganger,
lots of anger dwells within me, mephistopheles is deceitful and tricky,
slippery demon, i've gripped your aggressor; the pact makes more sense,
my body will cease, but my thought process will live forever in torment,
lord can i be forgiven, not likely, i wore linens of gray-black;
i can never take back my sin, i shall expose the eternal answers as payback,
as the lungs filled with air to say that, the larynx is contravening the pipe,
this my friends is the true meaning of life...
(as mephistopheles comes to collect his just due.)