Aplastic / Malebolge

Immortality, a lexeme of deviancy, And I voyage inside silent ova Trimurti, mapping spurious homogeneity, Solus parade Ides of March, A photic gate Ides of March, A cynic predictor I born to be precise, Lingua franca shelters me One thousand oceans, I saw vesperal verse fell Oh, iambic duet, Genitive end of those naos Atonalistic creatures Vessels floated Muted strangers! Terminus must smell like a waterfall Muted strangers! Terminus must smell like the inception

Submitted by Warbringer — Jul 05, 2026

Anemone had stopped bleeding, Quashing their consensus of demise To elapse inside the river, Where I used to hear the obit of myself And those pale musty chants The argentic factual is the same As my wetherism My elixir My opiate I alone am the rift of this farce, Peeling off, peeling off their monk robes, My mutism impaled the silent nothingness To drink off the shadow of a violane To caress the vein of uproariousness Let the anemone stop bleeding Let the anemone stop bleeding

Submitted by Warbringer — Jul 05, 2026