Aesthetic of Hunger
rabid shadow, the tyrant and whimpering child all burn in Saint Anthony's fire ergot running through the blood of Christ consumed with bliss and delight mét (unto) aemaeth nephesh-mét todestrieb feeding on fear aesthetic of hunger allayed with cruor fac me plagis vulnerári fac me cruce inebriári et cruóre Filii
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 05, 2026
we the hollow men of Kadesh Barnea we the harvest that fled your cursed home fed on taste of hatred, spite and fear we the men The Lord exiled to Nod fourty years of wander and slithering through the mud around the gallows hill, where all the unsullied died fourty more to come under copper burning skies in the rain there's no relief, it's pouring powder and dust east of Eden in my garden of fear where obsidian lotus’ come alive here be singing children with Sydenham's chorea while the angels feast on their carrion
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 05, 2026
empty shells with vacant stares - cyranoid pests their will erased, their tongues possessed at The Lord's hip they cower like a beaten dog begging for mercy with a pitiful gawk thrashing apes, martyrs in making their obedience built on starvation murder - the road to salvation the communion of hallucination with every prayer, with every thought sow seeds of torpidity watered with hope and nourished with bone grow weeds of Christianity lo the men seething with anger cast unto the shadow under a bleeding sun crawl up the nether like lotus sprout from tar and claw at the temples may your fervour be matched by none i am the axis, a wound slit in time aesthet of anger painting with violence this is my opus - lo and behold lo the men seething with anger i am the blood fueling their hearts like a raging storm, a marching drum again and again let them beat… as one
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 05, 2026
choirs of voices trill from the void a myriad of tongues of a slithering god crawl through the fracturing mind constricting and tainting the essence like an iron yoke or a crown of delusion crown fit for a king I sank in the womb of the maelstrom gestating in its poignant mental muck now is the time of eclosion second coming of the ziggurat subdue or be crushed I have rattled the kettle drums I have journeyed the path to gnosis I have awaken from stupor and crossed from destrudo to epignosis through uncharted shores yet I found no meaning to this divine persecution neither in dearth nor in plentitude my gaze found naught but rot I am no mouth for His ears yet here I am on this scaffold of mockery awaiting trial and rapture where my brothers and sisters be? have into poppies they turned 'fore me? No, there they stand, and there they laugh as they’re ripping my heart into pieces
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 05, 2026
Instrumental
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 05, 2026
oh great inducer, oh trickster god molded of shadows, guiding our path father delusion I beckon to you folie la! folie la! la folie de dieu like the pied piper i follow your song I am your whip I am seed that you sow shards from a mirror with reflections of you folie la! folie la! la folie de dieu curse upon curse I bestow unto you the fool bed the serpent at solstice of Yule I am Balaam - the prophet of plight ask now thy doom - the god is nigh! during the siege the purest of you will come to devour the fruit of your womb while leper shepherds and plague stricken whores pass on the bread in glory of God
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 05, 2026
blessed is he who walks in fear for the hand of God guides his steps I have come to give the justified repayment yet, The Lord found you wanting and with his finger tipped the scales
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 05, 2026
feral child, threshold guardian staring through the eyes of Goya at black paintings of existence dearth, dread and want at the fulcrum you are the chalice we drink from yours is the shadow on our path we the innate malefactors we the heirs to others' sins you've become a vessel for gods clemency and through your ashes our deliverance red heifer seen neither love nor bliss scorned, beaten and left to rot has the preacher of hope finally had enough? i think not! flay him into shape and have him burn from the flames of rebirth the saviour shall be born feral child, threshold guardian yours is this pound of flesh to leverage the scales of oppression come, make your leap of faith
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 05, 2026