10-19-15

10-19-15

     Possession served a darling tool and I utilized it well. Nocturnal expeditions exercise my bleak time pocket as I hunched over a wicker table. Beyond the flimsy walls wilderness equipped itself with animations bound to be incarnations from hell, if such an infernal dimension existed.

A symphony of screams filled my ears. Agony played many cords, but none more satisfying than this. I am no stranger to its harmony. So many sweet compositions arranged in elder times were genuinely fitting for the era. I seek not why or how instead accept that it is justified regardless. These sorry excuses for life are parasites.

And I spat unto them in a ferocious voice that hammered against the night, “The ultimate conflagration will augment following those discriminations. Obscure dynasty will disturb.  Visionless youths don't remain as illustrious trepidation speaks in a declaration so unencumbered.  “Beyond fragmented fortifications a squeal I do receive. Bawl insignificant partner. Thou shall not collapse. Approach your colleague. Thou shall not glide. Unfetter me ally. Thou shall not bargain. Animosity is with your member. Thou shall not resuscitate.”

The Sea of fire swirls around my ankles as each step into the great beyond is met with resistance. From a dark pocket in the room his gaze pierces my soul and with a deep breath I feel the edge of his sword. Silver shimmer blinds glory. I am without substance. Home does not accept me and so I wander a vacant shell.

 “‘When one person suffers from a delusion it is called insanity. When many people suffer from a delusion it is called religion’,” I said aloud.

The walls of sanity crumbled the moment mankind was conceived. They were a contagion breeding new contagions. For now it ebbs in the flow of Armageddon. A fictional universe waits. It has yet to be written, but words are easy tools to manipulate. At times it seems a prison rather than a haven, but death is a little laughter harnessed by the weak and feeble.

Once damnation takes hold the mind become a crippled story. The origins of illness stems from human knowledge of idiocy while cycles spread thoughts of fear to the empty hearted.

“Death,” I said.

It was an elaborate series of names, places and characters. Syllables coughed out are not to be voiced with human vocal chords. Rejection of originality of this submits oddity and lack of appreciation.

Before me the horror and surreal unfolded. Pink squishy tentacles extended from jelly-like bellies that attached to horned heads by sickly strings and throbbing light. I am spent with these unspeakable lives. Their design is fairly laughable. There needed to be a fresh blueprint.

Now as the world ends for billions I can guarantee we are merely warming up to a greater influence. Damnation is my crowning jewel. I will encrust it in my princely circlet. There is no break down. There is no culture. I am simply because I am. There is no simple way to express my dilemma. Death escorts mountains of madness and shadows of time.