[stylist] My first nonrhyming Goth poem,God Is Dead

[Semirhage]

God Is Dead
By Ciaran Corby

Retching, I bend under the  weight of words,
confusing and ponderous as they assault my ears.
They are empty with no essence, madness and mundane.
They are ungrateful children of The Muses and of The Poetry God.
At my feet lie the mangled decaying forgotten bodies of long dead poets.
Bent under the weight of drivel trash art, I slit my own poetic throat.
A sacrifice to the dead god, my blood mingling with the bodies of greats.