Phantom Of Delirium

Inside the mind of a demented soul.

I
I am the thespian vile and blasphemous,
Exuding in human iniquities too calamitous,
As that psychedelic ripper that encroaches,
Inveigling as the reprobate that approaches.
II
My penchants are very numerous and vulpine,
Amid those foolish ingrates of such dire supine,
Nourishing a psychotic ego upon those destitute,
Among the constant rejected within the multitude.
III
Yet I am tyrant with a silhouette of a lunatic,
Whose capricious desires are quite politic,
Within a mere expression void of any sanity,
And the applauses of the theater of my vanity.
  IV
Licentious thoughts of a senseless purgation,
Condemned within the diatribes of execration.
And taste the lips of the tormentor of morality, 
Who charms you with the vim of his formality.
V
In a continual chambre of mortal imminence,
And consumed in a servility and ambivalence, 
By the chivalrous core of the Victorian hypocrisy,
Secretive within the customs of the aristocracy.
VI
Alas, in obscure confines of lurid temptation,
As victims who succumbed to my predation, 
Where surreal fantasies meet an ironic tedium,
In a Orphelian mind of the phantom of delirium.
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