Binge/Purge
Behold, your long awaited savior See him ripped from a broken womb A three-formed beast, this 4 of 5; Leopard, Lion, and Wolf A golden god forged from silver spoons, Atop a throne wrought from suffering bones Long has he poisoned these darkened woods, sick with rot Long has he festered in the cradle of acedia He curses the path he has ruined And beckons us to descend “Through me is the way into the suffering city Through me the way into the eternal pain Through me the way among the people lost Before me were no things created, but eternal; and eternal I endure Abandon hope, all ye who enter” Innocence, wailing ignorance among the willing acolytes (slobber) Covered in the stench of the beast, ushered across the Acheron (slobber beneath) Awaken beyond the gates of eternal anguish Upon your knees Hear the shrieking These woolen masks Are suffocating We see them slobber beneath that shifting flag Coughed about on rotted beast’s breath Never could one believe the sight or behold the thought What sickness and fear had undone That sickness and fear had undone so many Now surely we must awake! Hear the horrid prophecy! The air burns with their wretched, dismal chant: “What mind was there to speak, what words were worth this weight, that damned us in the beast’s black mire? Our choices made us weak, now sobbing in our fate, we beg for hope in purging fire” Though we breathe this warning like acrid smoke We bask like naked pigs in putrid fen We swallowers of slime, we cough, we follow Lurching, clawing, howling We bend our gods to meet us here We boldly squeal ourselves as martyrs For we are chosen “Go forth, my wretched hordes! Find the splendor I promised, Find your place within my kingdom!” From a whispered seed, long howled through fetid air A hideous awakening rises through the filth Drunk on fear and excrement, we have been dragged to hell With our eyes gouged open, with our bones broken We overthrow Eternal he endures, eternal he suffers “Hostis humani generis” we carve, we burn upon his brow “And what then for the beast when tyrants boil in blood? (Where demons skewer and suffocate those who wallowed in his muck, Where the Great Deceiver, as horrid now as once was fair, Writhes in frozen gloom against his own pitiful efforts Where blood and foam and ribboned flesh Feed horrid creatures wailing for release What then for the beast?” we shriek Tenfold of these will surely be his fate) “What then for us?” we lament (We drank of his slime, and we now must purge) What then for us?
Submitted by SerpentEve — Apr 26, 2025
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