The Imperfect Vision

Who are you

That rides my back at the break of dawn

Whispering too fast and too feverish

Words for me to understand their meaning

As swiftly as you appear

Daemon of the morning, you are gone

Leaving only unsetteled warnings

And the unpleasantless of being

Spiritually ran through

Who are you

That lurks over my shoulder past midnight

Quick movements in the mirror, shimmering

Cold stare boring through my spine

Somaesthesia

The presence of a ghastly sprite

Or another undead yet living thing

It is enough, here I draw the line

Be banished hereafter and hitherto

Who are you

The serpent I caught in my dreams

On the pitch black attic of the skryers mansion

You made known my true name threefold

And the troubles ahead

Lest my habits are carried to extremes

Raced unwittingly towards ademption

Of virtues we cannot alone uphold

This transmutation, who are you?