The Nine.

You could look in all the corners and find something,
it's full and it's thick and it pervades the air.
an unrelenting and galvanic rhythm,
clasping my faculty like a tumour,
vague and delusional.

veracious and laconic,
it bears the sweetness of truth.
Invoking, provocative and deliciously brutal.
dripping bitterness,
incensed and consuming.

Unrepenting and scornful,
conjointed self preservation.
Our convalescant remedy for torrid fury,
rampaging lustfully into reposing.

and stop.