Cast a cold eye On life, on death. Horseman, pass by! -W.B. Yeats

Your Becoming

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Contraption of abstraction, each unceremonious flicker a brick behind the tapestry of brain Critters scream in pitched voices suffering creaking squeal of beams grown by woods in pain Solemn forest of destruction laid waste unto the crawling under-filth contorted heathen plane All that is has been Solomon claimed in his rotten years having his filth of the pagan whores What is, was and will be again and who knows if your sons will be good men or bad? Gazing down Mount Moriah Zion calls for justice from all the incense altar burning high places Which Satanic inner sanctum of sexual splendor summons then this unholy orgy a temple of tapestry Moloch the great owl then blows the trumpet, bringing out the boiling bronzen child furnace of hell Ashtaroth Beelzebub and Lucifer have their toes curling at the story of Abraham and Isaac fulfilled Walking in the ancient paths laden with dust turned mud by the agonies of sucklings frying Holy hell stands at the infinite staircase billions of bones churning boiling mighty stench profuse Unceremonious mess turning on the invisible axis drifting through careless space Ignore grand human's eternal torment for their fetished sins are infinite in momentous pleasure Behold Asherah pole erect as the bulging cock phallus Holy Mother demands Her devotion for fertility Your children then walk through fire and dash the innocent bones down cliffs she bears summoning futility Come clarity through one reality suffering screeching witches idle hands are the toys of Satan Pox force to release dire need starving suffocating dying of thirst the only salvation Warped justice the lie of the love of man takes eye for an eye and bashes cheek with morning star Nothing by ear but the ringing of knell festering by nostril delicacies of perpetual crimson tar Hello my child welcome and let me lead you into this horrid nest of palpable terror supreme Give me your little hand and please do squeal that melodious stench of fear shining with gleam of Set For the firmament will be drenched with most dreadful pastel Forsake your hopes of reproductive shell Stall your soul in shed of poison well Your becoming heralds in depths of hell the inner walls of his harem covered with intricate panels finely crafted and filled with death defying acts of ejaculation.



© CuldeSac
2018-11-30

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