Stained by the wine. A celebration guilt in ordinary time. Profaneness enshrine. The abode of the blessed. . Abode of the blessed. And we shall be the bearers.
As the moon creeps forth to pierce the clouds. And its lights embraced by a single howl. This graveyard dream was brought to life. With the breath of jealous winds.
I'm so sorry to hear of your bitter loss. I know my words can only offer but so much comfort for you. Just know that I am here to ease your lonely feelings.
Seven whispers silent on scathing winds. The seven whistlers tune. Seven cries, blinded eyes bade the choke on the night. Beneath the stare of a cold and blood dimmed moon.
All hail, the phrase of tainted prose. The etchings that cover the rose. Well, thought of you, must surely be denied. For impure are the arts that are painted in your eyes.
And it came again, like tears for a long lost friend. Tears that find their rest. Amidst words too sordid to comprehend. . And it came bearing gifts. Of pain, frankincense and her.
Why do I look to you?. To redeem and fulfill. To starve and deprive. The whole of my will. . And yet I look to you. One way to bring it down. Listen, for these words are my way.
Engulfed within somnolence. Submerged within chimera. In isolation I wander. To the place of my sepulcher. . The beauty of oblivion. Obstructing my path.
Sensations. Curse me and my ways. Force. Feed me blind on empty days. . Today. My faith was lost again. A grave was dug. To mourn its loss. . And in this grave.
I am the one, the fallen bastard son. I'll step inside you, I feel your lips. And seize your flesh. To penetrate the wound. . And your screams shall be dreams.