Those eyes will see nothing but drifts of bitter chaos.
No more despair, this is salvation… and if was it not, well, we do not need it at all.
No resignation, but pride for the acknowledgement of the absence of truth.
The stink of the promise horrifies me, so I destroy every pellicle of rotten epidermis
To embrace you, flame, fire, dagger, sword.
With the blade I cut the tongue in half and cicatrise with both strips with fire, united nevermore in such defiant dualism.
I grasp the claw of no-return to tear out every nail from my hands.
To embrace you, flame, fire, dagger, sword.
No more hand holding
I desire no return, nor shelter.
I forbid and deny.
Fear.
Alas, my son, it’s righteous to fear.
Thou fear, thou shalt fear and thou shalt adore to fear.
While the crime surrounds your limbs.
Art thou still a man, and just buried shalt feel your solace.
Do you feel it?
Now the left limb is numb.
It is the sign that
the infection disappears
Then slash it with pride and let its putrid nectar
penetrate the holy void.
Alas, my son, it’s righteous to fear. |
