Dr. Miezo

I am the Hades, Medusa my delusion
Giving up a sixth of my grade
throws whispers off track
It gnaws at the profile of the wheel

Because it's like this: The whore delicately licks unyielding eyes
quietly consumes the chaos that wells deep within me
Mostly hidden in demanding, moist sucking
her sudden bite, my blood soon runs dry

The noble sight of gruesome creatures
tells the tale of the lonely guest
The door shatters, it seems to me
drowned in the pull of my devilish burden

My flesh plunges watery into the slackening, cold hole
bedded in the worms of horned suspicion
Clouds my craving, only the embers still call me
evil ripens in me, mostly thriving at night

I flatter myself, I taste my blood
renounce you, judge my own death
My fire blooms, swims pale with the tide
A log burns out, doesn't make it to the boat

Is it the cleansing mercy that calls me to myself?
Or is it the victory that seeks to escape its actions?
Does comfort taste like this, that is of no use at all?
because it doesn't protect me from the praised downfall?
Doesn't protect me at all?!