This Beast

My mind is starved,no warmth to savour.I’ll just inject a wine;blood of my Savior. A trick of the Devilsays there’s no hopeas my mood it soursI spy an end of rope. Kiss his cheek Christknows I’m as if a Judas.Ponder choices I askif I get through this? Quench me my soul,in a saturated cloud,revived I’ll…