Laying down on the wood of the cross
Those sores shalt devour.
And the Earth trembles.
I savoured his flesh, and smelled the stinking scent of corruption
that surrounds transcendence. Sensed the presence of tears and blood
into the warm wine
The blood flowing from the foetid lips of the meretrix.
Laying down on the wood of the cross
Those sores shalt devour.
And the Earth trembles.
Salvation, there was no trace in the chalice,
there is none in the broken bread,
but the freezing contact of iron and chains onto skin,
wasting and decaying in the presence of the Word.
No peace and no rest thou shalt find,
but scars, pus and tumefaction.
Thus exult!
On your knees, with open arms,
thou shalt lick the wounds of the god made flesh,
the one you killed, kill and shalt kill eternally.
Kneel, my son, please your lost ego through genuflection.
Might your hands opened by the plagues of doubt,
and the healed wounds reopened
by the voice of your brothers.
But broken wings
from the skies are falling,
flaming not for the resignation of defeat,
but for the fury of revenge.
And the Earth trembles,
trembles to the sound
of every lie.
Open waters and mountains collapsed.
While floods of rats leave their ruins
to reach the presence of the Venomous Almighty. |
