Forebode

Thriving in this fertile miasma
My pores moistened with entropic pestilence
Humid yet inert
Potent and directionless
Awaken

With venom laced words
I channel and evoke images
Within the vessels of my cause

Hapless and misguided
With tales of interlopers and thieves
Of injustice and forgotten pride
They fall at my feet

My power swells
Fists of tarnished iron are forged
To beat down upon the mark

Senses lost to swirling choler
In ritual I pass on my seeds of acrimony