Dysthymic Opus Magnum

You dye your reflections in indigo- singing dirges of blue-devil, conjuring orbs to house your taboos, forgetting no circle is perfect; culling goodness can be onerous, when blackness takes all principle by the throes of unyielding grip; and like a sinkhole, it disappears. Then, you ask yourself why so, the looking glass steals your eye; still you pay the Seer your silver coin, betraying yourself once again; water coursing your jaded brain, merging creeks and brooks to oceans; such dread, so sad, the blade be your love, cold necromance... your elixir. [FjR] MMXIX