Omens of an Olden

Flashes of white contorted black eyes twist within the mind. Bent and warped voices yearn for release as dark covnents prepare assimilation. In this desimated cathedral called our bodies, Souls are devoured into the abyss, Ghosts are mauled into a frenzied pulp of fear. Streams of inferno light the innocence into a blaze, Defilers roam as royalty. Stones begin to bleed, earth time begins to tremble. The heaven is split effortlessly, torn out of equilibrium. Stars are sucked into a spiraling daze of a red massacre. Emotion is left as a plain settled in the heath to be undead. Silence rules all. As people rot into the infinity of an empty existance, Retrovated into the ironical preminition formed by energetic exortion, The will of the favored is cast unto the heathens of tyranical statues. All that is left is the methods of the evil And the tactics of the wicked. Behold thee who is filled to the brim with folly, Ye who knoweth not of what I speak! Take full comprehension of those with empty thoughts and actions. Be grateful of those with mental clarity. As the omens of an old have come into the first stages of being.

CuldeSac

What are words without understanding and what is understanding without sense?

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