for breakfast
Lips of indecency
teeth of lies
housing serpent tongue
Clothing made up
of the purest sin
because he truly is
the sultan of spin
Abel to lace
deception with thin
strands of truth
His extensive vocabulary
cast a smoke screen
that hid all he didn't know
Spouting out so much
bullshit
it was a wonder
he could speak at all
Skin fair
with black ice heart
complete
with a hole
in the soul
he didn't own
Sadist,
thriving off the pain
he couldn't feel
living vicariously
through his victims
Presenting himself
as a false prophet
and romantic
Sucking them down
one by one
until they were all
bitterness
and crumbled dreams
Empty shells
he could haunt
He bed bodies
as morgues stacked
corpses
Delivering a lethal injection
to all those he claimed
to love
and destroying life
when it sparked
Never any
fair exchange
but always
unseen robbery
If he were a woman
he'd be called a black widow
But why disgrace
the onyx madam
Slithering sickness
dressed up well
with Cheshire grin
Able to disgust those
in the lowest
of hell's pits
They all loved him
many still do
giving in to
soft spoken words
dripping with ill intent
stuck behind bars
of illusion
And when he's worn them
down to dust
He'll already have
another soul
to feed on
