A Higher Art of Immutable Beauty
Through my travels, I have pledged to tell of my
Infatuation with the disturbed.
The traces left behind... Still cower upon my conscience...
Flucuations bringing change, this hell on Earth...
It is a bed of procrustes.
The means are left behind, to the one who is dormant...
He is the placeby which has transfixed me,
Like a cyst it grows and swells...
Bloating to a new confusion.
Your anguish is revealed to me... As you become...
Gudgeon, provoked by this culmination of callings.
The goatish fiend, spills cowardly puss...
In consined perdition, we are overtaken...
By stygian darkness.
What is not known afflicts the inerted mind...
Reflect upon this... Swine.
As you feel me chew on your remaining bowels...
Your mentality is lost... As is the water on your brain...
Like a sudden change... In the course of events,
You must except your end... As you envision,
I venerate the pleasures of eviscerating,
It is a higher art... Of immutable beauty.
As though the oceans boiled and the lands burned...
Malincony, the winds resound a mourning.
Your fearless one... Violated of his life...
-His blood sprayed far during his mutilation.
The habitat is now a shit-ridden landslide...
All the screams become an echoing chant,
As though we sanctify... Gorging in spiteful cleansing,
The incense cannot cover up,
The rotting bodies piled below.
