The Real Me No One Sees

I lift my quill slowly stained with ink, lost in thought. Dark intentions still beaming through th e nights flowing art,  It lies silently beating heavy meaning, beauty, It rips my heart open revealing  years of legendary genius, our scholars, our best,  a thirst never quenched.  my addiction leaves me drenched in loving admiration, show me the places that tickle, not an itchy slight pain, I erupt in euphoria because you need me, oh please leave me desired. Your sweet ambrosia will kill to secure vibrance, it is my existence, the only sliver of joy left in my rotted counterfeit soul.  a foolish  prostitute of low worth only gaining it cheaply while the worlds scrapping by.  There is no me to be found, just a tattered rag of petty insincerity.  Sweet sugary fluff baked from the cheapest grain. Clever yes, but oh so far from intelligent.  Greatness doesn't turn tricks.  Fine ingredients are humble hard working energies that do not consort with cowards like myself.  I want what they posses through witty sharpness contrary to sacrifice, 1000 perspiring years filled with darkness and tears.   accomplishment is satisfying  when the neck feels heavy of head  sleep finds itself  common to death.  when gold is earned no