Magus

Descend into the ever-widening, yawning chasm of black thought. Descend into the voidpit, that spiraling hole of self deification. Escape from the decaying artifice, that illusory sheen, wall of representation. Descend into the ever-widening, yawning chasm of naked thought. Descend into the voidpit, that spiraling hole of self deification. The secret eye, all-discerning. Alive by the unspeakable oath. Leave behind this useless flesh husk. Escape into hidden shape -- incorporeal figure, the slumbering god-form -- in the bottomless well of self affirmation. To breathe life into the organ of hope, we will cross all of the curse'ed boundaries, the lines of sundering, feign'd divisions. We see beyond impenetrable wards to navigate the fault lines of fractural worlds. Descend into the ever-widening, yawning chasm, murk of rumination. Descend into the voidpit, that spiraling hole of self deification. And so we descend into the slithering depths, lit by the luminous torch of measureless thought, awash in meaningful chaos, rising in meditative glory above the grey names and sunken dreams, the feral, crooning paths lit by the luminous torch of measureless thought, as we descend into the slithering depths.

Submitted by Infernal Flame — Apr 26, 2025

From seed to womb, from seed to furrow -- the right hand cannot give to the left.

Submitted by Cyberwaste — Apr 26, 2025

We are vast unknowable beings without the confines of your perception. Our gender is disorder. Our sexuality is transgression and transience. Shape shifting through life to navigate the trench of sex and design. Revile us, your progeny, our hardships and comforts. The intellectual cares not for the approval of the fool. Revile us, your future. We are vast unknowable beings without the confines of your perception. Our gender is disorder. Our sexuality is transience and transgression. Shape shifting through life to navigate the trench of sex and desire. Withering in meaningless conflict, drowning diversity in the shallow pool called homogeny. Yours is lost in the lapse of time. Ours is limitless form. Yours is lost in the lapse of time. Ours is limitless choice. Yours is the decaying corpse whose stench is lost in the lapse of time. Ours is painful, victorious birth of limitless form. Yours is the decaying corpse whose stench is lost in the lapse of time. Ours is painful, victorious birth of limitless form.

Submitted by Cyberwaste — Apr 26, 2025

Silence any insight. Nuance ground into dust. Suppressive personalities. Mechanicals to the fore. As the short sighted ne'er do wells proselytize in various degrees of mumbles and shouts. We laugh! at the keening wail. We stare! down the shrieking eye. As they strip off their clothing and run bare bones through streets, as they waste away in hedonistic glut. Haunting fractured reality, dwellers of delusion, crooning the primacy of their singular perspective, humming the hymn of knives, veneration of disdain. Corrosive idolatry. Enshrouded glacial deformity, that blighted obscenity. Scratching out the lines we never thought you'd cross. Begging for the illusion, pining for fabrication, for a pallid shadow. Behind the mask, another mask.

Submitted by Lake of Tears — Apr 26, 2025

And it was written across the forge of ambition... Dismembering the vision, an inversion of form. To make a scourge of past prosperities. Pure desires warped in the crucible of deception. Bent to a numbing hiss. The whispered drone throughout the shrine. Submission in occlusion, drunk on masculine virtue. Backs breaking to tend the fields just to turn and set them ablaze. Retreating into isolation, the revelatory darkness where true nature is revealed -- and strength is found wanting. Embrace aesthetic rigidities. Adopt proscribed mores. Lay wreaths of blame, a desperate slip of guilt. Ever playing the mummer strutting on the stage of self. Seizing callous disregard. Assuming insensitive affectation. Revolted joys, like foes in civil war, like bosom friendships to resentment sour'd, with rage envenom'd against our peace; desperate, restricting, sallow; pale and wan, crushed from the ravages. My waning regard, reaching like a dying limb, a dead limb extending into insensate space. Still seeking the old friend, through the rent in time. The one locked in the carapace of frustarion and loathing.

Submitted by Nargaroth — Apr 26, 2025

We are the sages, reincarnated, up to our old tricks again.

Submitted by BloodShrine — Apr 26, 2025

We have deciphered the writhing torments. We have seen beyond the elder scripts. And we will crawl towards occulting light. From the black cowl of carefully sculpted gloom, from the stoic gaze of condescension, from the bow'ed backs to illness and suffering -- come the deafening moans and empty posturing. Outside the ever-expanding maze of existential didactic. No longer stroking an eldritch façade. Writhing in chaos. Conforming it to our will. Escaped from the cycle renewed damage. Students scarred by the flaws of their masters. The insecure always desperate for approval. We have welcomed injections and tinctures, wallowed in sensual indulgence, contorted in our death postures, purged in ascetic indifference. We have sung our anthems of pain. We refuse to exist in our despair. We will find inner sanctum. And so shall we prevail.

Submitted by SerpentEve — Apr 26, 2025

I give to you a brief assembly of ugly thoughts, a recitation of the barbarous names, a dark stain on righteous superiority, a bilious denouncement of uniqueness. We are no different than all of the beasts, roaming in the wilds and roosting in the muck, that thoughtless, unknowing, lifeless offal. All the gauze of our complexities -- morals and emotions, tortured inner dialogue -- an ethereal sheen to mask the prison of an existence. We've got nothing but hatred! An ethereal sheen to mask the prison of an existence we will never understand. Let the rank tongue blossom. Recite the barbarous names. Feel a savage pleasure -- perverse and cruel delight -- in widening the gulfs, in reinforcing the walls... then die alone in the isle of Setebos. Our legacy adding up to a heap meaninglessness, we thoughtless, unknowing, lifeless offal.

Submitted by Lake of Tears — Apr 26, 2025

Awake, Awake!, from the misogyny-fueled fever dream: that pestilential forced reality, that focal point of corruption, that has bred in the dark recesses and colonized our psyche, that has spread in the dark recesses and colonized our psyche. Prostrate ourselves before the new gods Affliction, and Instability, and Misery and All-Suffering. We bring ruins to ruins. We harvest the cankers and harness writhing torments to become emboiled in semantic apocalypse, locked away in the mansion of silence. Raze the grey throne of deep-rooted self annihilation that makes fetish of refusal and conceit of lamentation. Yes, we have hatred: A searing hatred for prevailing design, a searing hatred for limiting belief, a callous disregard for ignorance.

Submitted by Grave666 — Apr 26, 2025

We seek a silence for all but that which resonates with the inner voice.

Submitted by BloodShrine — Apr 26, 2025

Assume the God form. Seize the hidden shape, that sovereign self, celestial aspect. Emerging from the sunken ways -- We, the exalted ones, consumed by inner fires and tortured by fate, are now elevated. Emerging from irrational depths. Expelling abstractions. Embracing undiluted essence. Embrace our caprices. Consumed by inner fires and tortured by fate. Open lawless eyes. No longer enthralled in organic rhythms. Flesh falling from the bones. The body crumbling like ruins. Perhaps you remain haunted, obsessed, and unforgiving of an unfinished incarnation, malformed and incomplete. Oh, such a sterile fear, that strangling specter dragging you back to the shoals to remain forever depthless while we ascend throughout the aethers. Piercing the infinite veil of an unsuspecting universe, these worlds are ours to own. Primacy in solitude. For all those who can only breathe on the heights are always alone. We've defeated our mortality, defeated time, always alone. Remain alone.

Submitted by NecroLord — Apr 26, 2025