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Morbid condition cloacked me in anxious fog

Brush continues the hand and mind

Felt that images became something more

Fascinating canvas abled to scare

It is a reflection of a nightmare

The sleep of Reason produces monsters

Who are you? The shadow without light?

The devilish gaze? Blazing fire of the hell

Queer creatures are filling my oneiric gallery

Now it's a cradle of pain

There is one common world for the awaken,

But for the sleeping their own ones

The imagination with the reason

Produces marvellous work of art

The monsters are produced not by the reason

But by it's sleep

Crept up of the imagination

Loosing the remnants of a common sense

Does the brush make a dream or reality?

As the creatures get out of flesh

You won't'em ever escape

The laughter of a hellish shadow

Oppressing the mind

Ghosty finger points at the canvas

My disgusting deeds

Have become a reflection of mine -

Myself's become the demon