v.666
I tasted the fever of Your existence seems like cold grain to my mouth I stand aside, I stay away transmuting my quicksilver blood KIA - that I may see ZOS - that I may touch insipid are the describing words the self needs no vulgar praise This worship has no supplications my rite is to live and do things naked, pure, of honest lust the throbbing vortex feeds on it all Sleep is the best of possible prayers the winged eyes are blessed to see downtrodden deception of every pain transpierced hymens my lust adores Many images yet one raw flesh animal steps I love to tread an ideal point where Time is Space memory giant sores this journey must heal Lady of Mourning and her monsters lay down the scythes for here I come joyful and priapic my baby soul a new-born one, ten million years old
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 05, 2026
Necromancy, the rites of dementia See what the death looks like Souls from the limbo, coming with eternal flames Arrive into circle of trembling hands No inferno but also no heavens No god on his golden throne Promised Eden turned into desert Empty space and dead remains Spectral mouth tells hopeless truth In unknown words massacring the mind There is nothing after life What we can imagine now and here Infinity full of posthumous nothing Greed of immorality Is only despair now Caught in the waiting for nowhere Selling the souls for oblivion's price "I must be immortal" Nocturnal stagnacy as I burn my candles Sanity now dozes and waits for a day Nightly mares in their real dimensions No hope now... Soon I will die... No inferno but also no heavens No god on his golden throne Promised Eden turned into desert Empty space and dead remains
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 05, 2026