A visual into my abyss (Prose)
I sit within these mortal coils,
a vessal of hate and pain
sacrifice after sacrifice,
more pain reciprocated
into the halls of the cold throne of
his infernal majesty
confusion sets within my path,
so many doors but not one key
silence is my only exit
the burning cross my weapon,
the pentagram branded upon my breast,
chained to the sensational torment of the real
but romanticizing my diabolic image,
a tyrant of burning war
the spark of electric fire shooting from my blade
the taste of death upon my palet
i seize this infernal path to glut on upon the sheep
a wolf with goat horns breathing the blasphemies of man
my dream is babylon rising
the great city of brimstone
she who is the gate way to my darkest desires,
my true form birthed through her labial gates
the citadel of sadness burdening my every step,
as i heed baphomets call
my heart a stone of fused fire and ice
stitched with hatred and bliss
where does this labrynthine world choose to take me
as the harlequin takes my hand
to tour the canyons of sorrow
to cut my enemys left hand
my sanguine sacrifice to the goat
who i kiss with honor and pride
and as mother-night tucks me into my graven bed
the journey continues within the kingdoms of nocturnal illusion
a lucid flight in realms beyond death,
the kingdom of shadows is where i dwell
in my world of diabolic romanticism and i the wraith,
the wandering wolf
etherial horns of the goat glistening upon my head,
traveling to the lunar archive in the city of cold stones
to watch the child dance a blissful dance
in an illusion of fields of snowing ash
my hatred consumes me when seeing
those who take pride in disgrace
the winter moon guideing me through my brimstone world
soon babylon shall rise and all that has been said
shall birth this daemonic world
till that time i am trapped in these mortal coils
bound by pain and fueled by the hatred that drives me
in this world of the real ….
soon i shall wander the city of cold stones
and the labrynth shall witness this disgraced world
till that time a shall be anathema to those unworthy
and a champion to the honored soldiers of baphomet
through the eyes of a promethian
these words are write
bound in blood upon my brow
and silence shall be my key
to a kingdom that shall never be found.
|
