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Make of it what you will.
Suffocating In Rotting Stench Of Human Flesh, Choking On Fumes Of Black Death Spewed Forth From Industry Of Mankinds Resolve, Putrid Queasiness Of Existence With No Qualms For The Living Dead. Morbid Obeseness Puking From The Golden Arches Of Death And Decay, Hardened Arteries Clogged With Chicken Fetus' And Swine Colon. Balding Itchy Scalp Flakiness Of Psorisis Infested Tick And Lice Heavens, Sticking Pointed Fingers In Bare Chests Of Starvation And Bloatedness Of Famine, Never Returning From The Grave Of Life To Breathe The Sweet Sting Of A Moon Shadowed Fever, Wallowing In Self Aggravation Brought On By Smugness Of Retardation, Feeling With Spines And Callous Hearts The Ways Of The Wicked Open Doorways Forever Forgotten In Penchant Alleyways Of Lust And Rape. Grimacing Fervors Of Independant Rodents Scurrying From The Mouths Of Demons Soaked With Fear, Sweating Grey Matter Into Oblivion For All To Hear In Their Final Minutes Of Disease Ridden Souls. Never Thinking Of What May Be Easier To Achieve With Some Reminiscence Of Yesteryears Torments And Ridicule. Forever Patching The Pasts Cracks With False Misgivings Of Fame And Forgiveness, Easier To Throw In The Fire The Tumultuous Times Of Hindsight And Foremalice. Caring Not For Those Who Strifed Through The Wicked Winters Of Forebearers To Lands Unknown And Shadowed With Fear, Striving For Purpose In A Slick Black Pool Of Nothing. Emptiness In The Solitude Fortress Of Grievous Misbalance Achieved With The Tongue Of Spite And Envy. Moreover Examining Resting Places Of The Dead Wicked And Gone. Hunting Like Rabid Wolves For The Blood Lust Kill At Dawn When The Maidens Wash Is Never Done. The River Never Runs From What It Seeks To Destroy Endlessy Ceasless In Its Path And Wake Of Destructive Force Grinding And Tumbling The Rocks Of Time Into Shards Of Dust To Scrape And Peel The Hurt Skins Of Amphibious Souls Trapped In The Karmic Waves Of Cyclic Existence. Peering Through The Works Of God To Find That He Is Truly An Abominable Creature Of Hate And Retribution For Those Who Deserve It Most Shall Find His Son Waiting To Pick Their Scabs And Drink Their Rotted Malqueasance Forever Enchanted At The Sheer Virtuosity Of Repentances Foolishness, Believing The Lies Of Demons For The Soothings Of Angels In Their Fastidiousness Of Acceptance And Forgiveness. Burning In The Lavas Of Volcanoes Prehistoric In Grandeur And Mass Burning Their Stacks To The Highest Creatures Of The Air To Choke On And Fall Into The Flaming Glowing Burning Easiness Of Life. Like Concrete The Bones Feel As The Bitter Decay Resolves Its Fancy Into The Flesh Of Second In Command. Falling From Heights Which Are Actually Depths Unreachable By The Most Envious Faces. Scraping And Clawing Till The Nails Fall Of To Find Nothing But The Bare Existence Of Shame And Pride, Never Thinking Twice As To What Might Be A Better Way Of Travel Through The Nights Embrace, Slowly Turns To A Grasp Then A Clutching Of The Most Paranoid Delusions Of Schizophrenia Howling Lycanthropic Wolf Whistles At The Moons Light To Breakfree Of The Clutches And Grasps Of The Crisp Night Air. Glowing Serpents Eyes Lighting Caverns Of Treasure Sought After For Centuries By Men Of Hard Minds And Soft Bellies, Scales Like Gold Coins Shivering In The Coolness Of Light.
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May 22, 05
