The King wraps himself in
Spiced sheets
To cover his
Leper visage
And pungent odor.
Specious spiced sheets, white,
Conceal his
Void figure,
His blackened and
Evil body.
The Lord of Incense
And Flowers and Potpourri,
He rolls around naked
In his cinnamoned sheets
That burn and cauterize
His open sores.
The incensed fog
Perpetuates the guile
In the chamber room while
One hundred thousand
Petals are strung
From the expansive ceiling,
And fire light slowly
Stretches through the
Haze.
The Haze to inhibit
God's judgmental gaze
Through the crenellations
And stone wall cracks.
Minted Nostril Shoots and
Emblazoned Garlic Eunuchs.
His long
Probing phalanges police
The world for
Baddies and opportunities.
With only a snap of his fingers
His Spice Empire's
Imperial Spice Knuckledusters
Will circumference the globe
And sprinkle in his
Enemies eyes.
So rest assured on your
Peppered pillows.
