My Powers Curve On A Roadly Crooked Sinning Thinned Path. Poem by Michael Gale

This task is at last at hand...
It is hard that fact i've absorbed mentally in my DNA
as well as a'gland.

My powers curve on a roadly crooked and well mixed and twisted...
This road's scenic wonders why i am blinded misted.

I surge of power's over powering delight...
I'm addicted to it's highest night.

A sugary enriched high ensnares me well in it's snatchingly clutches...
Holding me way down is but of my own weakness's, as of crutches.

Around and around i mentally get into troubling schemes...
Left defensless with my fast and long holding mind bending themes.

I surge on in preditory unsurvival...
I'd been a lot better off if i had read of my Holy black bible.