Hammer of propaganda bashed with precision into the eyes of light.
Return me to an era of only pure force and movements.
Vortex of vibrations and purposeful thought.
It has all become just magic now and the authors and guardians of the secrets and solutions have laughed for the final time.
Shown to me as the avatar of innocence but barb-wired with unseen malice and fervor.
Blessed be the powers of disfigurement for they say millions of useless of eaters have become too difficult to handle.
Humanity the legend.
The wails of men from disparate tribes disturb not even a bird in these days.
No white flags to wave.
Survival clock tic harder until the lowest of our bowels struggles with self-defeat.
Roll along, roll along, heads will roll along.
Roll along, roll along, heads will roll along.
Tic harder.
Bowels struggle for self-defeat.

Clear the way King of the Stars.
Two-thousandth proverb.
I am a God.
Mithras.

I hope to be there when the eggs of skepticism hatch and develop into superior bodies of free thought.
They hope to be there when the timbers split and bio-germ death decorates the skies like a thousand devils winking.
Anchor our hands.
Recapture our minds.
Salvation's rent is due and cerebral bankruptcy has been filed.
The potter's wheel has been re-invented and his products will never die.
The butcher's blade has been whet and his products were never alive.
So let the tree of previous knowledge fall and be the first to vacate the hive.

Become but a lost forgotten skull in the high weeds of civilization where the smugness vanishes rapidly into shrieks of panic and end of the road desperation.
You would do just about anything now.
The invincible inbred whore.
Tear the Earth into shreds.

Burgundy and brown.
Humiliation my sound.
Pompous heart and great anguish squashed between brain and bone.
An inanimate journey through dementia where the ultimate accomplishment is woods earth and lye.
Burgundy and brown.
Hollowness my sound.
Jeopardize the psyche for the taste of eroded embrace as lips moistened with the bile of medicated kiss.
Blue collar.
Red rope.
Succulent and sweet.
Hung me by my switchblade heart.

We who move with the graven worms.
Learning their moves and mimicking their squirms.
Baked dead beneath the sun like psychonauts dreaming of fire.
Below the hunger of the robin and the piercing pains of mans desire.
This is where you will find me during that final glorious days.
Eye to eye with the graven worms within their darkened maze.
This is where you will find me when the planets vanish in space.
Definitions of peace unexplained with the graven worms face to face.

Absolutely vanished.
The entire world dematerialized under a black wind's final faded stripe through the atmosphere.
Vanished before the last ripples of hydrogen gave up on finding oxygen.
Astral clapped into darkness as light bent perfectly.
Consciousness shifted with ninety degrees of separation and truth has been relocated in sacred knowledge nicked away between the pyramids and stars.
Grid to grid burying the ill flock.
Time moves at strange angles.
Upward then ninety degrees to rightward as if we have freed ourselves from the time and movement.
So fluent so opportune to bury the ill flock.
Goodbye to everyday.

Green light and skin tight.
Plastic bag hung over your head because it's best to keep the carpet, and walls white.
Kill.
Refuse to kill the same way twice.
If you are going to kill then kill clean and kill often.
Or have we lost the art and right of self-expression?
And if so then I suppose I shall start building my coffin.

Sky turn to iron and the last words of gravity be inhaled into infinity.
Speak with the energy and spirit of rotting space and abandoned divinity.
Hegelian dialectic.
Thesis and antithesis.
The evolution of mankind reincarnated toward ambivalent hatred.
Intertwined in incestuous embrace with the weaving spiders.
Visceral disgust propels out atmospheric bomb.
Wets the lips of the grand destroyer and prepares his hands for the psalm.
Hatched from the cataclysm egg.
Born into hell.
Days grow ever darker and so we must plug the final holes where light is forced to survive.
So mockingbirds scream into the valley of death.
Deafen all whom can hear and cower from your breath.

You've burned your bridges and crushed all life within the world that dwelled under them
Kissed a prince and created a troll
Blood will mop up but last words and warning signs last forever

Disemboweling all denomination with her penknife one stroke at a time.
Sweet spirits.
As she stares toward the back of her memories she stares through you.
Blows through you like steam screaming through burst piping.
His lips upon her breast.
His tail within infant mouth.
The sacrament has putrefied but the vampires have come alive.
Recklessly she gashes yet her guilt will never be severed.

Torches, go!
Guide the vultures and rats to follow me home.
I found a scrap of you which the pests had left behind.
All for the love of the hammer and the nail.
All for the braids of leather with the skulls of steel.
For the bones that snapped and the blood that spilled.
My hands remain clean.
My guilt forever concealed.

An itch so deep that only steel can scratch now.

Quarantine.
Release me to re-skin the outside world.
Quintessence of a beast taught to think and suffer like a human.
We are our your men.
Parented genetic sequences.
Advanced protege of monsters.
Heralding the future of flesh.
Immune system ravishing viruses for the germ warfare and lust.
The science of suppression and genocidal manipulation.
Acquiescence to their bizarre demands.
In bones, blood and guts I trust.
In bones and blood and guts we trust.

May a black hole be our planet's urn.
Tomorrow will be the day when nobody remains.
Memories of mankind fossilized in space.
Trapped to the guts of a dying monster.
Today sun sets chilling death and leaves us with only the sounds of deafening barbaric noise and confusing information.
A horde of angels with goats feet standing tall.
One hoof upon our chests smothering us all.
Cities of men thrown into the atmosphere and crushed back to Earth.
No hope.
No love.
No sunlight or faith to squeeze through the cracks.
Destroy the people of ideas.
The last grips of strength will slip and all shall descend into the swelling birth-rite of blackness.
Together you and I souls blended and filed into the dumpsters of irrelevant history.