I am bamboozled.

The instructions are

a monotonous contradiction.

For every tale

I read of traitorous bloodlust,

of holy hypocrisy,

my motivation to finish

this bloody bibliography

escapes my body,

flailing itself into

the constellations.

I am left nothing more

then a gelatinous sack,

a sorrowful student

resembling some

squashed cranberries.