Spirited by a living death, consecrated on an alter of hate.
Negate all pleasure and happiness to your pleasures.
Given at once to detest all lighted faces,
Even candles become bigots
where beauty dwells
Happiness begets nightmares.
When as I am dead walk,
Regaining over exposure, with negative light
Dead to the winter’s cold,
Ashes scattered by every draft.
Tears of mercury poisoning my afterlife.
We try, to mend this damaged soul…
Knife wound nothing.
Bullet holes a pleasant stealing,
Of ill wanted momentary feeling.
Moving beyond danger zones
Into the hearts of living corpses,
Human life splayed on the screen.
To be laughed at.
Dreams of who should die, live, with no mundane answers.
Offer to me your daughters
Serve to me a feast, of all that you were to be.
To be dead and free,
Or to be living and chained,
Equal only are the dead.
Death has no favored sons.
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