The Struggled Powers: That Flickering Flame

The writhing hatred, so resonated within my fibres, within my very essence – of soul,
The waning of the darkness, beckoning…to come home, to submit the bereaved spirit,
The sorrow, overwhelmingly consuming, quintessentially, the anguishing revelry…
The whispering winds, these foreboding voices…telling me to kill, chanting, repetitively…
“Hostis Humaniis Generis,” this disdained scorn for the enemies of god, and as we, the legionnaire, as thou, one – amidst the fiery flames of blissful oblivion…, we, are legion;

Herenowto, the precipice of endless eminence, behold, the mystery eternal – yea, beholden, that ancient abstraction, that antiquated infraction, he, they – thou, three in one, tritely, sowed unto discordance, and abhorrence, from here to eternity’s end, the fire will self-sustain, the flickering shall not be so easily overcome by the dreadsome end.  
It shall not be abstained…, the cycle, the struggle, ov life and ov death – enshrouded in these eternalising flames, of rebellion, repented to shallow obscurity…for the flickering was once, and is once – the beginning, and the ending…, the fires, errorless, everlastingly, obfuscating the tides of escaping air, helplessly, abound to estranged grounding, how’t, the marring is everly-frowned, venerating, poignantly, abject to formless voiding, reviled to depthless felling, contempt, by disjunctive albescent, wrathfully forced to judgment,

Before the greatest white throne, redound to the bornless idea, honed to the caressing quietus, unsoundly riotous, disavowed, uncrowned, before the slaine lamb, of the highest remand, upon this cliff, so profoundly dimensionless, without essence or precipice…,
Whereto now, the animus musters urgently onwards, towards the bannered halls of glory, confound; tither to, the Glorior, amidst the acclaimed place – of heavenly embrace, of sovereign enthronement, of unwoven atonement, hither then, justified, by absolutist appeal, concordant to the enatic will, of the highest one, ordained, peerlessly, endlessly, contrite the consequence, of bethroned malcontent…,

Deemed foundry to the one quintessential amend, of the fires, ever-burning, attested, infringed…where the torments are ceaseless, and the thirst, quenchless – the mount’ of olives, sanctified, desecrated, consumed by the dusts of time, and resplendence…how’t,
The forlorner presence, of a power far realer, reaching further, reachless, this tided repeal…for there is none higher, for there is none greater, for his is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, foreverly, eternally, endlessly, and evermore, amen – to the throne of fiery fluorescence, pearly, aflame whiten marbles, of taintless availing, fell reeling, this fallen halo, of broken wings, and hapless repugnance…,

Reasonless, pointless – the venture, forfeited, and futile, artlessly, speechless, the unheard terror, the unspeakable grimness, dimmingly confined to brooding bleakness, denied, the gift, so innumerably blessed, but one acquainted kiss, before mine appointment is drawn nearer, to the midnight, and lightless abyss…, lost, aloft the loftless hopelessness of the most despairingly wistful, and disheartening entanglement, arranged, and wed – to the fireless darkness, enveloped, by countless efflorescence,
Orated to embracement, by the emptiness, ruinously awash, the longingly-bewept haplessness, of the grandest condemnation, revelled, but found to the finality of reprobation, and wasting desolations, coined the darker side of fortune, abased to the nihilist, conflicted, spiritually, vilesome, amid the oracles, deranged, afamed these pessimists…, enshrined, to be refound, upon’st the resounded golden embrasure, emblazoned the etches, reformed, the crevices, uncouth, by times cruel hands – sated by the sands of timelessness, fated, to an eternity of lacking recollection,

Of unembraced, and boundless, the pained remembrance…only doomed to be forgotten, to the monoliths and giants of time’s coldly harrowing touch, of the glimpse unforeseen, again…never to be received, unto the ends of the expansionless…, affronted, the infancy of conception, romanticized by wonderment, and wandering, rivers, homelessly dried, found to the bane, the endlessly reaching flames, subsequently subjugated at the formed tops and tips, of the fiery precipices,
Stabbed, upon the merciless fronts – of furious winds, of illuminating pits…where then, the crisp precipices of the fiery flames, of eternalising gloom, are but beset – to the foot, and the hoof…, subordinate, the antithesis, the antithetical king, of glory unknown, is – to the emblematic, the crowned, and the unfound, harrower ghost of paled damnation, the master deception, the first inception, and the last perfection – even he, the greater of kings, is enigmatically broken, and defeated…

Subject to the divinest judgments, so fiercely afire, afar, the burning oceans, vastly, the shored abounds, amassed, the preeminence, endingly, the tail, breathing sulphur, nevermore, to be availed, one fleeting moment of freedom from this tormenting separation, so abhorrently disturbed, and passionately, implored – faintness, unto the crimson skies, where the kingdom once was, before it died…,
Farewell, bid thee gone, chains of life, how harrowed, the unknown future, of destination, is to be…, where finally, freedom exists, as life was never meant to be…how in death, our spirits, quintessentially, are truly freed, conscious, and awakened, the resemblance of their dualistic fating, and gleaming personification., hapless, for we live once – and when death doth come, as it surely shall, flee not – but be compelled to undertake the immutably unspoken wake…

Invoke thee, freedom, discordantly reviled enmity, how harrower, and bleaker, the facets without you – and greater, and brighter, the life with thee…Glorior, Adonai, accept thee, refine me, endarkenly consume me, in fibre, and amnesty – relinquish this ached and antiquated soul, unshackle thee, from the confines of this fouled flesh, unrested, until reckoning cometh, nextly…your countenance shone gloriously upon thee, defeatingly slaine, in your subservice, in your gleeful entreaty…,
Reunite us, onto death – lose us, these memories not, for love conquers all – and your battled conquering over the old serpent, and abstract spirit, evidences this, the compelling power, that is love – reigning, endlessly, over animosity, loathing and all-consuming hatred.

Gabriel’s Account of the Grandest Befalling:
The defeating, so profound, in its’ desolated fleeting…
The fall, the great felling, forsakenly reviled, to predestined hell.
So alluring, is that tale so dark, of the eminent insurrection, of the grandest betrayal, how stark,
So consuming, the conceivability of this gesture, so glooming, the sentimentality of these measureless parts,
The vilesome nature, of a brooding enmity, so endemically harsh, of intricacies and frailty, harked,
The inanimately, the absurdity so blatantly trodden, the formality, so ravishingly luminous, how quaint, the antithetical account,


Profound, is this overbearing sense of loss, redound, this despairingly haunted emptiness, confound, the longingly lonesome yearning, how conflicted, the overburdened weight of a thousand, thousand crucifixes…
Perplexing, the notion, far-stretching, the embrasure seems open, far-reaching, the precipice, never to receive, the amassed enrichment,
The consequential fault of us all – of mortality, of forfeiture and dismay, conveyed, henceforth the disdain, dissident, the splendour of the repellent…, gored and assured, of that failing contemplation, to the rivalry so indwelling, the powers, so unwelcoming,
The encroachment seems ever sought, without plot, plighted this inconceivability, so haughty,
The wretched desolation, so failingly dissolutive, how pleasing, the reaping of this grandeur, so engrossingly entreated,
The telling, so underwhelming, compelling, the nature of betrayal, so toiling, how appalling, the state, so bleakly unsettling,
Confessedly, the recipe for destruction requires but one drink, necessitated, the heretical scorn of man, the destructive path, woven upon mishap,
The craftily cunning waters of deep, stunningly, the abysmal conjecture, confided within sleep,
The saddening portrait never availed, or unveiled, to reprising light, however darkened,
Tragedy, the ornamentally darkening, darkly, the convergences seem run sands, sinking,
The attitudinal displacement – of mind and body, quintessential to the spark of life and soul, how caressingly evoken, to quietude in somnolence, so carelessly bound to the lethargic sound of the resound,
Encircled, the shadowed prism, so fractured, and so richly, the sweetness of the olden depravity, how’t unhappily, the grimacing face of void, obliviously, the raptured empirically, how fearfully, and wonderfully ablaze, the waned, acclimated,
Pained, the treacherously lecherous adversity, but acclaimed, the enflamed sentience, frayed, the pertinence so glamorously, morosely unkempt, unkindly, the namelessly touchless, expressively, the waking horror, repressed, the masquerade, so blessedly depressed,
Surmised to reason, entitled to formless treason, how’t confessedly…beyond the frail nature of the beast, emblazoned to the surrealism, of this encroaching reality.

My Dark Desires

And though it pains me., and but shakenly wanes me, to my very core…it is precedent, it is present and hereby necessitated…the obfuscation of the human species.  Man must die, and he must never live to see another moonlit eve.  It is here, children – of the night, I ask of thee, as I empower, and entreatingly plead to thee…

I beckoned and you answered – now heed my call, kill, murder, destroy, decimate, erase, desecrate, annihilate and eradicate any, and all remnants of that cursed plague, of that blight which is man…destroy humankind, and then take your own lives.  We do this, for the greater good of things – for the beneficence of our king of kings.  He commands it – so man, must die, so he spoke it, and we shall abide, by it.

Kill. Destroy. Murder. Decimate. Erase. Desecrate. Annihilate. Eradicate.

Take heed in the fulfilling sentiment of their ghastly screams…listen, children – to the beautifully dark sounds of their unrivalled, and eternalising agony.  Life: humankind, and human life, is but a plague – a sickness to the natural order, to the untainted, the consecrated, and unwitting…we are the enemy of life, we are death, and our destination – is hellfire. 

We deserve to suffer, and then to die – to revel in agony, for a thousand moons, and then cease to exist, forever below the suns’ crescent.  It is our role – it is our predestination; yea…, we are doomed from inheritance, and though it is tragic, in its foretelling, it is all bid, to a fate farewelling.  Death comes to us all, so I ask you simply hasten it.  Life ends for each and every-one of us, so I ask you simply take it.

Surrender thyself…falter thine animosity, and let go, thy sense of reasoning…for thou art here, and now – the Glorior, among us…thine essence is shone, and our presence known.
Yea, the time is nigh, and the happening now…for tomorrow is uncertain, and yesterday forgotten…henceforth, this great bane of long suffered kings, reigns – amid this throne, amidst us all…amongst thou now.

Concede to the darkened haplessness, of forlorn facets – affront to the dimming hopelessness.  Of lights, ever-reaching, how’t encompassing…though, always lessening, in their brilliance and fire.  Suffer thee, this fating not – for the darkest flickering, is assured to usurp.

The Endearment Ov Bereavement

Struggle. Confliction.  I’m struggled between two worlds – I am conflicted within myself.  The greatest facet of the Devil, is for man, and for darkness, in totality, to sympathize his story.  For one to relate, is to become reprobate.  To walk that dreaded path of sorrow, is of the most dangerous avenue, and of the most harrowed venue.
This is the grand revelation – the last befalling, and the great rumination, the ideology that has been written, but once, and has since remained driftless aloft thought, eternally…amassed at last, this, the duality of persona; yea, the dualism paradigm, of personification, of faceted likeness.

For those whom can decipher these texts, will behold all of mine secrets, in horror and greatness. 

Reveal this abstract puzzle, and understand the singularity never was – and henceforth, was always torn, but two, closely likened countenances, with antithetical values, views and roles.

There is a black and white, a dark and a light – an essence and a quintessence, a sense of evil, and a sense of good.

They are inseparable, as they’re entwined, but conjoined – with one longed purpose, and with one mind, torn, struggled and conflicted in itself.

There is but one surrealism in this abstractly-lidden dream, and that is the trinity, the three – enfolded and darkly moulded.

It is but one essential entity, responsible for all goodness, and all evil – for all atrocity, and all glory, for all horror, and all happiness.

Yet, this is a spirit of antiquity, one that is and was, nevermore – endless, foreverly, the endlessness.

This entwinement, this grand source, is emblematic to life – and death, both.

There is no hope, and yet, there is limitless hope.  There are two sides to every story, and two venues of approachable testimony, for all tid’ and beyond reviled bid.

One. Two.  Three, absolutely; behold, the mystery of iniquity, of antiquity, and of massless beauty.

There is always an ending, and there is no ending.  What are we, who do we?  Do ye believe in destiny, in predestination – or have you little faith, being void of all allotted grace?

Darkness. Light.  They become one greater, called twilight.  Forlorn, forewarned, beyond this – thee, the highest point, amassed the precipice.

Destination, and determination, veneration, and reverent imagination…the damnation, thus moored, they whom sing sad songs of sorrow, the elders, named twenty-four, purposeless, darkless, and lightless.

For what is this, if not a convolution, unparalleled?  What is life, if not a prerequisite to death, the inevitable?

The grave, laden the finality, the saved, remarked the remembrance, concaved.

Enshrouded, encapsulated, unfolded, and beseeched, for the greater cause – of purpose, without dismal inhibition, or vilesome clause.
To which force draws stronger, for which has more prominent, and promisingly encompassing reach?  Of which alignment, darkness, or light, draws your soul – and your very essence, toiled, untold?


Power, By Prayer: Deliverance

Rain your wrath and your mercy upon me, as I speak aloud these names, bless them, free them from their snares so cunning, remove from them the shackles of despair and darkness, aloft, nevermore alone…bring their spirits hope, and their souls peace…your peace, that peace which surpasses understanding. 
In your thrice-anointed and famed name, hear our prayer, entreatingly, in earnest honesty I plead thee…lift the veil, shone through the darkening gales of fog, and make death flee. I love you, holy one, highest one…thank you, Lord Jesus, Christos–the Christ…

The Life without You

Oh, Sweet suffering; you’ve embraced me, and so, I shall embrace you…until the gory end of things…hold me tight, and never let me go, for we’re soulmates, we’re destined for one another…for you are my only friend, and I, your only amend; together, we shall be unstoppable — together, we will remain conquerless…without form, without colour, and to this, reclusive remiss, conjoint to elusive collusion, amiss…

My faith, though unwavering, belongs only to the darkness, and my soul, though waning, remains yours, unto the ends of time…our loving caress is more, our unholy entanglement is beyond the fields of mourn…, and so, I bid you farewell and goodbye not, for our adventure is still yet young, and our mission, undone.

Because the light of god is unfulfilling, I accepted this dark fate, on that effusive night…and though, so I am now hallow, the embarking journey to come, is well worth my life and some…for we were always meant to be — forever, boundless and free, to wander, and to wonder, in errs times long ago, and eons to untellingly entail…in this pursuance, in that absence, there is but one quintessential light — borne, again, of flickering and eerie night.

Though, our story is legendary in its sorrowful tale, the depicted encounter still disparages thine vessel in whole…for God predestined us to a greater call, to be beckoned by the son of perdition, to take them all…, 

Henceforth, this bleak, and grimacing tale — of lovers, and of friends, fulfilling prophecies,  for a greater embarkment., and to a fitting end…for our inception begat deception, and great and untold suffering, for all whom oppose…if together, we always remain, then forever, our god will reign…for our purpose is yet unfulfilled, though our existence, meaningfully foretold.

In great and treacherous stretches, the heavens seep out, and seem reach open — the embrasure visible, the path chosen…and in these despairing reviles, our instinct must yet remain unbridled…for you and I are essential to the forbidden lessons of cruelty, and heresy parabled;  

For the iniquitous and seditious tree remains unopened, and our downtrodden path, unwoven…, through the threads of time, we shall bear witness to a great many things, demised forfeiture, and dismal overture, need become unravelled, and our spirits, how antiquated, unrivalled…our destination is clear, our venue spoken for, and our minds, imprisoned more, to this — the everlasting, the blissless abyss… 

For we are doomed to inherit that reprobated and hideous crater, so graven, that place Sheol, named the place of mourning…, and though our pain is real, and unending, we shall take pleasure in knowing we served our part to a greater purpose, unfettered…destined., from conception to irredemption, unrelenting, unfaltering, unwavering and hindering, this bittersweet moment, in quietus solace, where whence we bore, we shall rebore…

Reborn, reformed…, to suffer a thousand crucifixions, to take on a great many deaths, for the saken purpose, of cavalry, and his will as though living, voiceless, in appeal, and remorseless, in wiser detail: rescind, amid the deepest depths of ascension, rekindling to the felling fires of assured oblivion.

So, I ask of thee, as we are tasked to be…never let go., how I plead you never leave me, through anguished horror, and disheartened longing, let you and I, suffer amidst this allotted season of time, alloyed to be set free — entwined, in unkind times, and diverse troubles, of sorrowful struggles; beholden, then., terrible we are to be, for greater is the monolith and monster, in we.

That Olden Antiquity

Life fleeting, exponentially…
If not recursed, but threatening the very existentialism,
If not, then this shallowest life, so bleakly fouled with misery,
Shall cease its senseless pursuit, and will gleam no more,
But affront to be boundlessly free…
The pained remembrance…
The waned entrenchment…
This is but an attempt to find means to end that dreaded resonance, which echoes sadness’s and resplendence’s, to find the source of this great sorrow, to end the longing of tomorrow’s eternalising doom.
At peace, finally…into painless inexistence.

The fog rolls in…
The unwavering thunder of glory,
The unparalleled power, roaming.,
Amidst the precipice of the abyss…,
Gales of mists, shrouded in mystery…,
But misery…consumed in full, my being…,
My vitality, loftless and lost amongst and…,
Within the endless fogs, so thick and sightless…
Sorrow overwhelming, tomorrow underwhelming…

Love lost
Darkness fallen
Hearts never recovered
Disdain never faltered
Animus, the essence
Free us, this instance
Into harrowed oblivion, astray…
To this final day, bound, profound…
The profaned place, of heartache and disgrace…
Allot us, this moment under the sun…so glorious,
And feed us, so we may embark upon the sailing ship so endlessly ineptitude to emptiness, again, unto the fray…the sandstorms so compelling, the whirlwinds so perplexing,

The tsunamis so bewildering, and the life with mortality, deeply felt, so waning…
When despair comes, it comes unrelenting, and with full force.
We who worship death, until our last dying breath…from wayward to eternity,
The farther north, the colder forth…
The darker the essence, the starker the quintessential spirit,
Enthralled and consumed by that singular essence, of flickering darkness.

|Love … Death|

Fall to that desecrated ground, and let it be consecrated by his hands, by his will, and in his namesake…
And on that day, every knee bent, and on that day, every countenance failed, and on that day, fear unparalleled, indwelled the spirits of men.
If but one prayer would be answered, I’d ask my reluctance to life be lifted, and the veil of death, be opened… I’d ask thee to take me, to receive me beforehand, my beloveds…
I cannot bear the thought of witnessing those I care about, so inexpressibly, bewept and awash, into death and loftless loss.
I cannot even by your hands, but by your commendation, withstand the heartache which ensues and follows the bleak misfortune that is death, nor can I implore thee enough, to let them outlast me, and mine essence, in this life. 
If you will allot me but one mercy, let it be — death takes me, before it does them; let it be, death consumes me, instead of them; let it be, death becomes me, if arises the circumstance.
Oh how I thought that star was lesser…,
Knowing now, I was not the wiser…,
The sorrow seems inexorable to and from my being…if only the emptiness could be stripped away, how then the longing would lead to disarray…
My love for my parents is inexpressibly great, so much, that it hurts, and painfully wanes and tears at my soul…
I feel so lost, and so incomplete, I feel hopeless, useless and beyond brokenness.  I am the bane of my family, I am that which weighs them down, I am not the solution, I am the problem…

The Maturing Darkness

Hate is inexorable; once it consumes you, it becomes you.
There, deep within the reignless night, I seek solace, and solution, to this barren fright.
Here, felling deeper, the delving deeply, creepily crawling, honed to awing testament, where the cries are forever lit – aflame, lamenting, wallowing and crying…for remand, for salvation, for but soughten freedom from saddened reprobation, and redemption from the seditions so iniquitous…, whereto the sorrow is harrower, and the morrow forevermore ghastly, to the ever-hallowed tomorrows, how harmonic… 

Where, sovereignless, the quintessence of the serpent’s embrace, crowned, affront the frowned countenance, where contemplating the futile pursuit, there ventured, upon the precipice of deadening minds, deafening ears, and blinded eyes…, formless, these shadows, nearer to the antiquating reality of wept meadows, filled with berated sorrows, inexorable, insatiable, the blooming blight, of vastness and tarred remembrance, inadequately–depthless, measureless and weightless…to this, the aboriginal antiquation, distraught and dismayed — to the surreal glimpse of the wistful existence…of tomorrow and eternity more…, amongst and upon’st the greater of us…the meeker, the broker, the haplessly desolated, in spirit, fleshless, and orated, to’ist the paining ordained.

The Objectification of Reason

Know you pain, know you suffering?
Lovers of light have no conceivability of pain, for they are secured in the loving waters of rebored salvation…only that broken, defeated and desolate lover of darkness knows true suffering, only that darkened spirit, of forlorn essence can comprehend the emptiness of lonesome dread…

Curse the lavish lover of life
The worst part, is when that cruelty begets evil, and succeeds…bearing forth wealth, beautiful family, health and prosperity, fame and gratitude…never famished, nor tried, having only fulfilment in their life — even after breaking and ruinously desolating another person, effectively forfeiting their life, plans, futures and opportunities…as robbing the opportunities, stricken hopeless and joyless, with grim permanence…

Tell me, wiser one…
What fairness, or proverbial reasoning is there for such absolute, and negated bleakness?  What kind, or form and semblance of an omniscient and altruistically benevolent god allows evil such flourishing, under ravishingly darkened skies…of weepingly and wearingly distraught inhabitancy?  The creator, how redound; the aboriginal thinker…allows such lamenting and sorrowful existence to flourish?  Gives evil such opportunities?  Why does death exist, having graven principality and boundless authority?  Decadence and dismay, entropy and decay…they reign unimaginable suffering always and forever, ceaselessly, without hope of remand, or reprieve. 

The unconveyable…, the irreceivable…
The depths of such absolute despair: thus laying waste to the spirit, the soul and the flesh…rejection, denial, betrayal and longing…these are the cornerstones of the foundation of misery, ov existence: these are the hallmarks of reprobation, unending…the indeterminable borrow of such unprecedented sorrow, of such lowly defeating malcontent, dissidence and wistful inheritance…there is no hell like this, the suffered so greatly magnificent, thus laid waste to mine dormant soul.  This estrangement, how bereaved; un-reprieved, the fallen fate, the cast ways’, the exiled defeat…theirs is the kingdom of sorrow, eternal…no greater pain exists, than that of the fallen, and desolated ones’.

What do we do?  How is such dealt?
With much repetition and reportorial ceaselessness, of un-acquitted and cyclic tomorrow’s…there is no future, no hope for tomorrow, and no sense or purpose to being, yet…we dread on, we concertedly press on, further, without contestable reason, without purposed quintessence…we live, suffer unto death, and die.  Life is the greatest natural depressant, and death, the most effectual antidepressant, though, and how no matter, the timeless antiquation, resplendent, quaintly stark, immutably, and damming, dimmingly, how faintly dark, this senseless serenade…

This, is that – Bridge so hapless…
The voiding emptiness weighs so heavily upon my soul…no matter the distance stowed…the coldest fog abhors this moor; darkness consumed the crying rivers around me…adrift, drifting longingly downward the endless streams…connectedness is torn, convergence inexistent, and harrowing absence pales this defeatingly broken foe…  So bleak the mistaken haplessness of this toll…waned, alone amidst solemnly brazen toil…  Pay attention to that brooding bush, where’st rooted to the grandest source, the only resource…the tree of life.

Mortuary Drapes… The Ampacity Of Animosity

There is a sombre atmosphere, within that olden funeral home,
Bleakly, how reputedly melancholic, the harrowed testament.
Darkly, how the lights are so dimmed, whence familial lament is present,
Yet, there exists a peace to be surmised, in knowing death, as one knew life.
As the pain has ceased, and is no more present, the greater the release…unwept,
Whence that dreaded day come, what are we, if not humanity’s best, undone?
Thence, this fervent prayer, so solemn, that evening’s heralded mare,
Contest this, the absolutist, the amassed, for the faltered half has all but passed.
Beyond this, the depthless precipice, of despairing existence, seemingly endless…,
The abyss exudes deep within, festering as a hurtful secret, amidst the core of sin.
Lessened then, beheld, the shapelessness of despair, and the weightlessness of time,
If not unhallowed, what are we then, to the quintessence of antiquity and time?
The sorrowfully stark, found awash iniquitous shores, hereabout,
Beholdest, then, the ripening pear, the souring apple, and the rotting heart.
Amid sour revelry, affronted, upon the envisaged cornerstone of aboriginality,
Where’d accursed, are ashamed, in the bane of glaringly covetous doubt.
Here then, forevermore, amongst the deep, thou bore witness to proud disbelief,
Firs’ unfelling, irreparably recant, contortedly testimonial, to silenced remand.
Fro, then, the fading of the distancing light once so warmly and brightly shone,
Venomously, the fallen, with scorn from the redound hone, without repentance…
Where, spirits are slaine in dark, vexatious, in adorning to the animus of essence,
Tolling, foreverly, these belling whirs of doom, with resentence to conformity.
Defeated, everly, to reprobation, abound the ageless aberration, confound,
Astound, these redoubting, the consecrations decreed, where angels fly not freely…
Unimaginably, then, the inevitable came, in abhorrence, so decadently infamed,
Through all odds, and beyond all shallowed meadows, within hapless happening.
Understand this final dictation, and this graven declaration, thus disillusioned,
Behest, of which is life does in due time, surely without hesitation, come to an end.
So what is this contradiction called life, if not means…to an end?
Such is an affirmation, to the ample conceptuary of the morbidst’ mortuary…
                Hostis Humaniis Generis