Impassioned

     The voiding negation is inexpressibly impassionate, so eerily unreal in affectionism. On today’s date, the first day of the year (Jan 1, 2016) I’ve felt such a low, not unlike the lows of my past, but still, so lowly defeated.  I feel so abstractly forlorn, so forebode and bewildered in this haplessness and emptiness.   It is possible, this extreme low is due to an awakening of dispirit – of realization of actualization, to the finality of things – to the inevitable ends of all loops, bonds and branes.
     I find it difficult to convey what it is exactly I feel, and increasingly more so every day. For every waking moment there is this sensation which is more a cessation; – an abstraction of thought, of mind, of spirit and heart; to which, seem intertwine such glooming sorrow, and thus gleam with such waning dissidence…of such meaningless, insignificant and incredulous formality, all forming the very febricity, the fabric and essence of the soul.
     There is a darkness, which longingly haunts my very being – to which is consuming as much as it is enveloping, a disturbance and disdainful existence, an informality, a dualism of spiritualism and a breaker of dissonance.
   

      What they feel is inexpressibly more…the passion of the darkness is so welcoming in its consuming void. The passion of the Antichrist…
      For you are the one hope; the Everflickering, the light that shines every moment, forevermore…blessed are you, holy art thou…eternal one: endless one…highest one.

Duality

As far as I’ve traversed,
No matter the starry verse,
The sun always sets in the same manner,
The sorrow is always of the matter,
Sometimes greater, though never lesser,
The setting sun seems reaching,
Knowing your longing, and your weeping,
As though whispering, I am eternal,
I am the source of your awe,
And I am the bane of it all,
In suffering so great, in glorying fate,
Suffer not yourself this same fleeting vastness.

Suffer not my same fate,
Eternalness is cursed,
It is consuming,
It is dooming,
Be weary no more,
For we shall see each other again tomorrow,
At dawn’s mournful eve,
Know for every day you see my shining countenance,
The grave, your redemption,
Is that much nearer, eternity in nothingness and inexistence,
Is that much drearier, beholden;
To cease conscience is of the most gracious gift,
For your suffering is but seasonal,
As ere is time and essence forlornly begotten by dimming horizons,
The longing will cease,
Whence you persist the deathly bliss,
The enveloping embrasure, of illumination reach-less,
Await me on the nethermost side,
For I shall not forsake you to the night…

The dualistic darkening,
The fright of night falling,
The coldness of progress,
The inevitability professed,
Forsaking forevermore, frowning,
In nihilism shrouded,
Yonder fare’s harrow mare,
The fog enshrouding,
The darkness so involving,
In concernment and forebadem, so eloquent,
If you cannot bear part from the glorious night,
Wait for me on the other side,
I rise without angle, favouritism or delegation,
For my light radiates invariably, innumerably,
… Infinitely and in-distantly.
Without regression nor sured reprise,
For the formless shimmering doth glimmer,
So dithering in lonely quietus solemnity,
I am the great confound,
I am named confliction,
So profoundly venerated with contrition,
I am the personified dualism,
I am the everflickering,
And I am the nightfelling,
For I am bewilderment complexly perplexing,
Foreverly unfound, unseen, and yearningly wallowed,
With wane and regretting disdain,
With dispiriting dilemma,
And disheartened reprobation,
Alas, I am the uncreated,
The boundless vexation of bornless premiss,
Enter the desperate cornerstone,
Delve deeper the desolate,
Lastingly bedridden of eternalness so cursedly forbidding,
Lavishing not the unbevelled, the seditious so loathing,
Converging with the transfixed,
In hapless congregation,
So welcomingly enticing,
… Is that eeriness of the iniquitous abyss,
Of voiding negation, of the befalling precipice,
So longingly afar, the toll of the immeasurably heavy,
The weight of the sun, awash ruinously defeating endlessness,
The overbearing oppression of ocean thunders roaring, ex nihilo.

Permutation Of Being|Semblance Of Being

Veering helpless, amid these blue skies…
How selfless, is his sacrifice…
Foreverly bloodied from barbaric bludgeoning,
To this side, afar – from the womb, to the tomb, and beyond…
What a miserable existence, for this sad man,
How emblematic an effect, over mankind,
Thus given abjection, from their kind,
Where thou abstains, the crying eyes,
with resemblant virtuoso, for the disbelief, surmised…

From the gallows, to the cross afire,
To the hills of Golgotha, from Jerusalem’s maze of endless spires,
In humility, tormented and humiliated, demeaned and defeated,
Abandoned, graven, forfeited and fated,
Beholden, then a peace so soothing, convergent,…
Likened to streams so tranquilly fulfilling…

A wrathful lust, a loving sentiment,
An absolution without confusion, nor with artefactual obtrusion,
Amid the diffusion of elementary reactions,
To realistic contusion behest the abstruse reclusion,
So cometh the thundering clouds, of storming glory,
Of proudly profound and unrivalled power,
The very ground, shaken and trembled, how’t tremulous…

The foundations once infrastructure’d, now deconstructed, this’t glorious…
The machination of creation, formed of manifestation, inception…
Then corrupted, a seed once fell – from a tree never found ill,
Avail, the seed seemed felling, from the precious peach,
Which beseeched the aboriginal antiquity of the formerly conceived…

That old serpent, the twofold ruler, the unruly enticer,
The insatiable appetite, never once fed,
Truly, the evil mastermind gave not his life, but only his pride,
Making him, but second to the most high, not to be surprised;
The kingly founder of malediction and darkness,
The deceiver, the seditious, the iniquitous and the pretentious,
Him, the son of perdition, the emphatically underwhelming,
The passionately welcoming, Antichrist, so impassioned…
He, who paints the skies red with blackened dread,
Forbidden the allotted entrance to the endless gardens of Eden,
Forbadem the rapturous second appraisal, for life, continued – in paradise…

The wise bearer, the threefold beholder, the justified juror,
The only one worthy, the necessitated source of brilliance so flourishing,
How ravishing, the ravenously darkening,
The splendid lighting of the radiating sun,
Beholdest all life, and all death, come from the lips, uttered by his words,
To become or to begone, to permuted being, or semblance’d duality;
He, whom painted the stars, with nothing more than his breathless oblivion,
Confessedly we accept, gratuitously, the wonderment of his awed stand,
But hand in hand, against the antithesis’s virulently vehement tail,
So sweepingly destructive, and eternally immutable,
Beholden, he whom is the irreligious, the irrespective,
The universalist, the preferentially disavowed, never disallowed,
Nor given to sorrow’d entrainment of heavenly’d derelict,
He, the great annunciator, forever, unmatchable…

To this, the immeasurable precipice, of the formless bliss,
So caressed in dualism so wistfully professed,
The amassed err of totality’s embrace, of finality’s wake,
For audacity’s sake, how professedly classical,
The befalling so stigmatized in horrific awakening of timelessness,
Disseminated, for purpose of understanding, of the unbevelled plight,
So the exhortation of his gloried revelry…

The Longing…the yearned waning;
To stare sleeplessly at the ceiling, appearing though no barrier was there,
Between dreamer and stars, longingly gazing, appearing aimless,
Though, with true and thoughtful direction, one stares,
Seemingly endlessly, deprived and despaired,
But worried and ridden with stressing realities,
And the starkly  perpetuations, still one stares…,
Veering unendingly, transfixed and transcendent,
Herein the blissless thought, deludingly deeper,
Delving more, into surrealism, and quintessential unrest,
Until one drifts into unconsciousness,
And is but adrift to the sameness in thought,
Only in dreaming, then to wake to the nightmare of actuality,
Begotten to normalcy and forlornly repetition,
Until life reigns ceaseless, where then,
Only the unknown is of abstractly-laden thought.

The Accursedly benighted…to solemn insecurity;
Behold, these eyes unfolded; unfolding,
Collapsing and flattering…
The despairing of the sun,
The waning of the undone;
Embrace thee, thy emptiness…
Caress the void…let go the joy,
Distancing infinitesimally,
The voiding vastness of longings innumerably,
Be liberated, be welcomingly accepting of nihilism,
This’s the unknown’s song, written for a father’s son;
Beholden, the vexatiously and vicariously redound,
The sickly withering, of the graveness underground,
Be astound, the treacherously lecherous, the confoundedly profound;
Retreat thee then, defeatingly afoul, be fleetingly cowardly,
For wickedness has no bound, this far from joy, removed and reveled,
Give unto thee reprises nevermore, stricken abound,
To be surmised in disdained existence, forevermore unbeveled.

What I feel is inexpressible,
As though dispiritedly moored…
Though abstruse, a voiding vastness,
A desolated negation, a lightless depth…
An aphotic state of melancholic dispirit,
As though loftless…
Amidst the languishing embrace of the abyss,
…and its graven precipice.

The Everlasting, The Everflickering…

Romance is immortalized,
love is unending,
Behold the weightlessness of time, and the shapelessness of despair…

Life is symbolic in its semblance to that of a snowman…
For we have our moment, for we have a season,
Where the sun does shine upon us,

Where light was shone and made us glimmer…
As seasons come and go, so do we fade,
Into distance and irr-remembrance.

The everlasting, the everflickering…
The darkness so long unawakened,

The despair so overtaken,
The blurring, the distortions so bleak,
The life without you, so coldly harrowed,
The vividness unimaginable, the bitter truths so hurtful,
What is left, without your embrace?

Wallowing places of distantly vast,

And desolately amassed remembrance,
And for what does this mind resonate?
Without you, the world is a cold emptiness, a wasting place…
Without your presence here,
Existence is forfeited to shades so deludingly imperfect,
Of faces so unimportantly awash,
The abysmal shores of reprised thought,
The seas of forbearance, the sands so inglorious,
The glimmer so unappealing, the shimmering so unreservedly contorting,
The haplessly disdained so conflicted and maladapted,
In undeservedly vainly bewildering, in places of vastness,
In lands of discordance, existing is the greater essence,

The once gloried, the last defeated, the kingdom evermore,
Lost is this graceless grimace, this place of erring emptiness,
Stirred and rewound, where light shineth forever,
And the everlasting expansively envisage.
Here lie the ashes of the unconquerable,
Forbadem to eternalness so darkly dimming,
Until the last light is shone,
And the unreachable rescind,
To the dissolution of this faintly indimutible soul,
Whence they wait conquering,
Where they are forsake to the same dainty fating,

Of reprobated pureness, ever-glorious to immured quietus,
Enveloped foreverly, this quenchless torment,
Where then, amassed the reputed, set aflame the pearly gates,
Inheriting, now, this far east of Eden, the childless night,
The unvanquished fight, where eternally the soundscapes…
Are of nightmarish compositions,
In servitude to the unconquered glorior…
So great is this darkening displace,
Of graveness and harrower embrace.

The Process Of Dehumanization

Animosity comes before pride,
Which is but indifference – longingly mournful reprise,
Let the sorrow languish within, let the dark stir,
And let the waters drown you.  Inhale the flames,
Fall prey to the consuming waters, let your lungs fill up,
And allow death one final appeal.. –
Give unto those what they have given unto you,
Stand up righteously and justly, proud and confident; –
Make your name, earn your time under the sun, become something,
Be acknowledged, for the sun is so radiant in its brilliance,
That it always shines somewhere – as the sun is, so are you.

Befoul the innocent not, but give wisdom,
And share glory – for you too, were once…
Impoverished and disinherited,
For you too were once conquered and defeated.
Respect is only given unto those that earn their statuses,
And the riches of the flesh, for those whom seek out the simplest of things. 

Know this: the envious are only forbadem in their lonesome somnolence,
For they long and they wish for what you have…
– They yearn for warmth, love and beautiful embrace.
Those with love and caress, they have everything –
Those without these things know it, and they despise the stupid,
The spoiled and the selfish, as one who has been impoverished takes care of,
And looks out for, his loving embrace…beholden…

The glory of justice, the despairing foundation,
Boundlessly forsaken, and endlessly taken – advantage of,
Abused and misused, for self-gain, for game,
Impurity is iniquitous, and the deadening harrow,
The make of us – for we are of one essence,
A singularity, an entwinement of confounding confliction,
A perplexing prism…beholden,
We are the inhabitants of the dusts,
The inheritors of the grave, and the veering abyss,
Which gazes so curious, to the stars.

Exaltations & Exhortations

The darkest one is exalted, for he is higher, for he is greater;
Beholden, the power of the grave, death and fire –
Befall upon the power of the air, the water and the times.
Risen, yea: risen he is…for all shall fall in worship,
Callously and cowardly forced to their knees,
In shamed disregard for the prince of the powers of air and antiquity.
The time is come! Rise up, ye solemn and disgraced!
Rise up, ye who have been dealt injustice and inequality!
Rise here and now…behold this moment, the momentous clarity,
That is the mind of God, how’t the eternal always see…
Live: now…for all that sleeps and eternally rests in death…
And unrivalled remnant shall rise to see again –
The day of wrath, the day of glory, untold…
Breathe in this coldly voluminous air, and listen in longing…
For the darkly heralding trumpets of besotted terror,
So defeating, yet so satisfying…is the midnight harkening!
Embodiment, entombment, displacement and distemper,
They are the foundations of eternally and…
Contrite constructs of unrighteous reverence.
Hark, hark, and herald, oh herald, these lowly dark angels scream…
With anguish, and in the fields of fire ever-burning,
Lays dormant the key to the absolute secrecy:
Yea, he is risen, for none but the father himself can dare,..
Open the gates to the great abyss…
For such ancient deviltry live withering…
In this place of smoking torment, endlessly fuelled by animosity and negation.
Only one has the comprehendible capacity to unleash the beast –
The great dragon of revelation…the war-bringer,
The second power, second to the highest of all…
A precipice so invaluably tremendous, and so parsimoniously extravagant,
That even the angels that are beset upon the four cornerstones
Of the holy golden and white throne shalt become sceptics.

This restless evil, rivalrous in contemptuous wrath and darkly-contorted glory,
Of fury so unbridled, so unsettled and distantly incomprehensible…
A place beyond the stars, a wormhole of essence,
A whirlwind of thought – an entwining of dualisms so wise and adorned,
Conjoined into this place of flowing water and fiery convergence;,
Damnation hath awaken, and heaven fleetingly deconstruct.
And in truth, how sorrowfully I implore the harrowing dichotomy
Of darkened allegiance, thus verily…
Must be noted, that evil cannot be destroyed,
For every act of vengeance that befalls wickedness,
Only empowers the powers of the air.
There is no ending for the antithesis of light,
For the opposite of the Hebrew God.
Likewise, God is unending, so both are immortal,
As well sworn enemies…eternal.
For their conflict, and their struggle wager on forevermore,
In eternal war, and constant battle, for the crown of absolution,
For the seat of wisdom, most holily glorified upon…
The great white throne of midnight.
There is this passion within solemnity,
Within loneliness and longing; yea,
Though these negations are disheartening,
And though they are defeating in their dispirit,
There is a comfort of a sort – a painful and darkening comfort of a sort:
One with the dark, to be touched by the void…
Only those so afflicted by vastness and longing; yea,
Only those of whom know nothing but sorrowful lament
And lonely existence can even conceive of this all-consuming abstraction.
It’s a rekindling fire whose flame never suffocates,
A ghostly abrasion of which knows no happiness, but only death and desolation.
He, who stretches his hands out over the sum of the heavens…
He whom painted the night sky, and he whose power is unrivalled.
Glory to him, the king of kings…the eternal one,
Beholden the mystery of the highest!

The Mournful Seas

Behold, the eternal seas of reprisal:
Of longing and mournful shadows cast over,
The oceans of uproar and upheaval – awash and stirred,
So longingly and unendingly, the oceans tremble with ferocious revelry,
With thundering voices clapping as roaring winter winds…
The sea beholds all darkness in such coldly remorseless bleakness –
The oceans shroud all things, of secrets and antiquities,
To mysteries and iniquities…the endless oceans roar in thunderous upheaval,
They are torn asunder by the clasps of daybreak, and veiled by midnight.
The oceans are filled with regret and sorrowful lament,
For they weep in solemnity, for their forbearance is unwept,
In untimely calamity, but…within retired humanity.
The eternal oceans rise, drowning man’s iniquities evermore,
The shores are stirred amidst chaos, awash…beholden,
The waters of transgression, the rivers of convergence,
For the diluted emptiness of glory once embraced,
Of awakened instantiable inception – to the embrasure of unknown,
And unseen perfection, foreverly more, now forlorn…
There exists deep within the eternal waters an unrivalled antithesis,
An angel cast down from the glory of his own splendour,
Of his own sedition – into darkness beheld perdition,
Shackled and imprisoned under the weight of the world,
With the sun keeping guard – know he will rise,
Know he shalt not be confound to defeat,
Though rather he shall wait for that momentous opportune,
For he is preying kingly, with gloomed eyes set on you.

Predestination

Beyond the stars, there lays bound a beauty…
Enshrouded in wallowing and darkly glimmering mystery.
That void we feel is of more than longing and reprobation,
It is of impassion and regret…we are unfulfilled in our contorted longings,
We are empty beyond fathomable expression, in our conflictions.
Suicide seems to be the only soluble solution, venue or mechanism for escape
… Embrace the emptiness, feel the darkness,
And welcome the waning negation shrouded in nihilism.

Love tears at more than the heart,
As heartache is inexpressibly and harrowingly wallowing…
It eats at the very febricity, the narrowing spirit…so,
Yea I say: the insufferable torment is without reprieve and reprisal…
There is no end to this torment, there is no hell like this,
This is the lowest point, this is the place of bottomless perdition.
In assurance, I swear, in unsound and naked truth,
How verily, the caress of the darkest void is inescapable,
Once alone, always alone, and this is the unshelled truth.

If doomed from inheritance, one is doomed to eternity’s precipice…
Just when you think the pain can’t hurt any more,
It deepens so; and it takes your very breath and spiritual essence.
Thusly, leaving you coldly bewildered awash in discontent,
Asunder…under the palely ill-conceived diffusionism,
Of forlornly foreboding darkness, and of the cold ocean’s weight,
Encompassing you within its infinitely vast spectrum,
Of torments so unawakened; – in crushing defeatism.
The weight of the immeasurable, that is despairing infused darkness,
Entombed wholly, without remorse, forgiveness,
Redemptive liberation or momentous ceasing…
From the eternal forebodes of the abyss and her unreachable antithesis.

Solemnity In Solace (Weeping Willow)

Adrift, nearing the point of sleep – alone and cold,
On a night so grimly forebode, pondering and considering,
All of my life’s happenings, knowing I lay alone, in curious…
Wonderment, but because of my cruelty, nihilism and immutability. 
I lay here, staring through the pane, watching the frozen rain,
Fall far from the sky…feeling as hapless, as though I am to die,
For whence every moment a flake hits the soiled ground. 
I lay here, Understanding, I am so cold, and also so alone –
Even on this eve of nights, this ere many call Christmas night…
So coldly forlorn, and so pressingly bewildered by mine
Despairing state of Quietus, forsake…
There is much joy and much splendour on this night of beauty so weathered,
However I implore – That the dreary do still endure…
There is also terrible suffering amidst vastness and sorrow,
Through so many minds, longingly wandering, with hopelessness and dispirit,
The soul is set asunder – by the plunder of desperation,
And the…resplendence and thunder. 

Understand me, and you will yearn no more,
For understanding is presently adorned – oneself,
Then threefold, will you please hear this old souls’ last confess? 
I plead without contest, for my Story has never reached…
– The eyes which see, or the ears which hear, nor the tongues which taste,
… Or the skin which feel;
yea, and not even the nerves have sensed
… These hallmarks of languishing affliction,
Nor has the brain which comprehend all things, found valid petition. 

If there is one thing to be said for the night,
As for this eerily starry twilight,
It is in you I Regrettably confess my sorrowfully lament,
It is the laden riddance of my iniquitous Contempt…
For we are the pioneers of our own life,
And the most copious enemies of our own reprise –
Such rivalry and disdain, so profound is the aching pain… 
To death, and beyond, how harrowingly contrite,
The journey through life, so violent in Hindsight –
The mightily defeated, and the blighting conquering,
Are of essence so sound, pure In a void of solace redound…
Where martyrdom exists no more in its infame,
And the flickering Of life nevermore in its fearful disdain. 
I lay here, alone, on a night of joyous appraise, so cold and abandoned,
In desolation, thus astray; yea, I say, be rid of your contentions,
And free yourself of reaping profession. 

In this, I soundly declare, the weeping is too much to bear,
Behold, the unravelled, and their contemptuous waning 
For the shadows so impeding, for the sparrow’s song is never 
Untravelled, nor a pride’s frowning unwind so contentedly unbridled…
Where giants are monolithically besought to traverses so distantly,
In tremendous confound; It is in eternalness,
Where one is enveloped by ones’ mind,
The hauntingly refracted are but ghosts of time,
Intertwiningly seditious in  unkindly bewept essence. 
It is here, I end my tale, of my tragedies so beholden,
To ruinous emptiness, awash in boundless regrets, and wallowing bereavement.  
Tonight I shall die, alone in coldly forlorn insignificance,
Only to be carried away, posthumously by the callous undertakers,
So voracious – never to be remembered, nor dejected to emplore –
The truly astonishing nature of life’s frailty, and grinning inevitability. 
In your longings, and in your yearnings, take heed to the wiser seers,
Find love, found family, and leave negation for the dead,
Let the world carry your heavy weight, you need simply
Forgive and let go – or be forgotten to the dusts of time,
And regressed to the abyssal colds.
Heed not this warning, I swear unto all that is holy –
You will find yourself nearer, to this lonely place of solemn regret,
You will be wept this same glooming bed.  
Where to, one is doomed to forfeiture and failure,
Alone in hateful contemplation, left with nothing but endless tears,
Only conjoined of thought and malcontent;
Alas, the final step is hell, surreal…joined to the grave,
Taken in hand by death’s languishingly reprobating, and darkening embrace.

The Distancing Sun

How foreboding, it is on this eerily dimming eve,
So darkly, the longingly dreary, beholdest, the unspoken supremacy…
Yea, the gates are so impurely pearly, though never witnessed,
See this, the place, so drearily empty and miserably weary.

How crushingly oppressive, is the great weight of the void,
Of this shapeless emptiness, endearingly full of forlorn dissidence;
Hearken, the despaired reality, for the truthilde…immortality,
Heralding, evermore the presence felt, though belled in embrace of precipice.

Where then, only time will live to tell, of perplexing conviction,
Utter-est, the distancing, and the ever-reaching, so innocent a respell,
Upon this broodingly, bleakest eve, this resplendence, filled with such decadence,
Resurgent unto reprieve, the mournfully bewildering remnants, of such retreats.

Of shores long agonized, how ruinously awash, overbearingly, they are now lost,
The formlessness of bornless meaninglessness, for this is the sickly vilest of remiss,
Here, amidst a sparking fireside, where the fires attest, this far from the abyss,
Of the light’s greatness, so ingloriously redound, but revelling, abound this scorn.

Afound this dank ground, where we only reminisce, to kiss upon sappy lips, this…
Haplessly bound atop the welled, worsening the blessedly perilled, without shifting,
Accursedly, in earnest pleading, buried deep, hopelessly underground, ever seen,
Amidst the misting gales, amassed, surreal, with gaping purulence, so iniquitous.

The failingly, profound; caressing the void, how comforting, is this grave darkening,
Hark, this beautifully blissless fading, amassed upon golden walls shone, cascading,
Distorted and sightless, heed those words, the immutable, and amiably fond truth,
This far, amicable, to the pinnacle of the regressed, and dastardly cynical, lastly.

As to this, a precipice of oblivion confound, here lay the graveness and uncrowned,
The sowing roots of wickedness adorned, trembling this wistfully saddened solace,
Of his kingly, antithesis, but yearned, for memory, past and future told, suppliant,
Where so faring, compellingly, the unblessed so daringly dismissed, of sorrowfully barren.

Afar, the beheld vastness so entreatingly misshapen, a faltered and dooming telling,
The gleaming nightside, the embers subside, wasting away at the ashes of the sun,
How’t, infinitely in-distantly, are those amber splendours, reviled distinctively,
Thus far undone, gleamed the envisage nevermore, to be embarked or glorified, now.

Adrift, somnolence, be but gifted in wallowing and decay, with loathing astricken,
Whilst life forgotten, now deathless, but left smouldering in deviltrous disarray,
The colourless harrow so darkly stark, for there is no hell like this, profitless,
Repudiated, is this side of the tided nihilist, cometh forth, the superbly renowned.

Thus depleted, the reputed remnants contest of those painted on blank canvases,
Long ago stricken, to desolated landscapes,  far away, behest,  of the antipathetic,
As are the misanthropically flagellate, impetuously given to this, a massless fain,
Of graven remembrance; so is the sanded essence, the summit, forborne manifest.

The light is unreachable, the darkness inescapable, and hope inexistent, slumbered,
Comforts long entroped, vanquished and flooded, here, now, enthroned, amid this,
Befallen to the quieter aspect, of wallowed screams deceivingly abdicate to revelry,
Cowardice, that lecherous fleeting commendably, held they the shaming ceremony.

Though, cruelly and aimlessly, the blind shall never again see the bleakest of reality,
Welcome to this place; beholden, the grave’s darkening embrace, how maddening,
Forsaken, fallen to reprobation, how defeating, the dereliction of weeping evermore,
To such disuse, of revocation, suffered this abandonment; this far – from paradise.

Now doomed, to massed and graceless symphony, bindingly withheld to tragedy,
To this everlasting, and ruling disrepair, given this far away, arisen no such reform,
For solemnly eternal, is the grimacing void, so lone confessedly, befaulted by  pride,
Forsakenly, bound to the precipice of the dark endless, where prayer long ago died. 

All but sadly indebted, to eternities of powers unrivalled, thus’t conquered aground,
In summed quintessence, fearful of the ever-flickering, foreverly, doomed, falling,
Afire, regretting the solace of this damned place, sloughing ye days so suffered,
Contemptuously, threadlessly woven, breathlessly unspoken, ruinously, and,

Unendingly…the darkness entombing, will thou, with sincerity, wilt thee?
There is none greater, there is none higher, beseech me this moment under,
Your glorious uplift, infinitely reaching are your compassionate hands,
So convincingly edifying, your vocational commands, embrace me your…
Holiest presence, for one gleeful gaze upon your countenance,
Will sustain thine essence,
forevermore… even,
Blinded by the absence of your unreachable light.


Be thee hapless no more, let loose, go freed,
From his overbearing, erase his image,
But from the fruitless tree, denoted,
Where mourning is bliss, forevermore drowning,
Bewilderingly, in the bottomless abyss,
Be lustfully consumed by the fires, inextinguishable,


For this is home to the hopeless spires, duality, treacherously;
Endarkened, faithlessness in graceless’d perdition,
Wrought in spite of the serpent, asunder,
From errs of timelessness, and t
herefore, we insist, how’t now,
In this, we confess, these fragments are begotten and unheard, nevermore to desist.