A Grand Design

Haven't posted a poem in a long while, thought something new might help...and get somethings off my mind

In lonely stipulation,
weary thoughts protrude
along adjacent walls
along the shadows of the soul.
Condescending eyes descend,
yet with fork alone do I fail,
a swarm is plentiful,
and I am but one against
the endless...
Little comfort befalls
as the flames of purity
do cleanse the stench
of the mortal condition.
The weary vices of the mind
scream for dark justice,
as the scorned soul
tempers them with sweet words.
Elongated consciousness
yearns for slumber,
denied by the black elixir's design,
tired as the soul become,
to beg the Lord Most High
to comfort of eternal slumber.
Alas, divine countenance be scorned,
as my spirit becomes dismembered
amongst the vultures circling near.
Of warm embrace do I desire,
yet of cold embrace do I acquire;
has this divine comedy know no end?
Or must I wander to Nessus
and petition for my freedom?
If the modern god does not preserve,
and the depths below do so ignore,
of where may this lonely soul wander?
Do I squander along the stars,
only have my dreams crash down?

Nay! Triumph be mine!

From venerable depths
do I at least wield my despair.
Dark designs shall find comfort
with sadistic intrigue,
as an Angel of Death is born.
Wingless it shall be, vengeful it shall be,
scorned it thought to be, abandoned it thought to be,
a lonely retribution have we designed.