I Shalt Become / Moloch

Dreams of the desolation Walking discalced upon leagues of sand Blisters on their feet Dust be their hands Dreams of listlessness The whores stumble through the desert Falling to their knees to pray Sometimes the gods reply "Hark, apothecaries of abandon Ozymandias, your kin."

Submitted by The Void — Feb 12, 2026

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