1. |
Void Hymnal
05:34
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I bare the sickness that flares unfettered in the cesspit sedimented with furor and grief. Smile as a burning incense to cloak the stench. Svelte phrases reside one word away from an atrocious revelation. A larynx matted with a spike strip to at least make the fleeing voices severely bleed. An armored thorax. A bulwark of woe and guilt to guard the wilting black hearts. Our mouths are gagged with coils of thistles to keep our dreads unspoken. Our hands are tied with thick layers of nylon to keep our bodies unbroken.
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2. |
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Devour their bodies saturated with brine. Their limbs gnawed by the canine teeth. Their souls pass through the gastric acid. Dissolved in atropine, dispersed through atrophy. Slivered bones spat out like an excess grit. A flight of splinters to the eye of god. An expression of the black mire of man's prevailing abyss taking a carnal form. A mountain of hidden ache and filth in motion. Devour their bodies saturated with brine. A mountain of hidden ache and filth.
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3. |
Cessation
03:01
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The womb echoes in drought like an arid well. The last fiery serpents of a divine inheritance dispatched lifetimes ago. Seeking to slither back into the torn and tepid hole. Longing for its warmth. A silver cunt on an ivory pedestal. Embalmed with myrrh and frankinscence. A callous vestige of trifling significance. As the lustre dims, the moribund aperture breaks. Break and ascend. Break and ascend.
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4. |
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The halos above their wavering heads are torrid. Bawling as the patrons' eyes glimmer in lust. The space between their nails and fingers is pound shut with acerbic splinters. Howling as the saints hover within an arms length. There is no one coming to aid. There is no one left to empathize with the hanging. The sores unite to form a grand abscess. The bodies merge into one lump of soggy flesh devoid of breath and character. Hand in hand, leg in leg, bone in bone. Parched by the sun, polished with an oily torch held by a child. The robes once glazed with the tears and pulverized innocence are now only molten relics conjoining with their holders. Hand in hand, leg in leg, bone in bone. There is no one coming to aid.
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5. |
Rattling Mutter
05:07
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My face is spited by shards constructed of a thousand broken mirrors each reflecting a luminous being of false hope. Each smile is ground to grit and each gleam of joy is smothered with a stained quilt weighed with the burden of violently shattered dreams. Each teeth is pulled out separately as well as each eye is gouged out one before the other. Rapid bleeding from the mouth and sockets, and the once gravid voice is reduced to a rattling mutter. A rattling mutter yearning for the warm flow of words now
ceased forever and buried under the image of atrophy.
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6. |
Harrow Prayer
03:44
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Rain fire and woe upon us. Flood the deserts, dry the oceans. Ransack the temples and torch to ash the books of the illiterate. Smudge the face of your creator with the shit of its progeny. Reduce the rich into atoms. Arouse the poor with hope and abrogate them once they've gained enough strength to stand. Break down these shriveled pillars of hair and skin. Rain fire and woe upon us. Be our image.
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7. |
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This body is merely a husk. A cloak of ashen skin. Burnt strokes across the spine whetted with a molten iron rod. Cuffs gnawing my bare carpal bones. Abrasions and open wounds pose a pattern appearing as a sprawling thicket. Lashes mellowing a rigid canvas. A caged, worthless brute captured by the hands of a man drenched in horrid pleasure. The sacred seed flows through my sore cavities as a vigorous stream. Branded as a desirable object with no other value than to unwillingly please. The
holes become dry. The soul submits to an abiding drought. Extirpating the thicket to reach the deepest layer of this mound of limp flesh.
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8. |
Throat Flutters
03:43
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I kneel as I choke, and murmur. Low hum inflicting an internal tremor. I quiver. My throat flutters as the poles are being potently thrust in. The tendrils inflate my lungs, humid sacks forming a home for the parasites to effervescently breed and to subjugate the host. Embark the horrid motions leading to the omission of a life. My thoughts are not mine. My voice is not mine. After one last desperate howl for help, I leave this world twitching.
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