Every man have to pay for his sins
not with death
but with sleep
I for good have decided
I won't fall asleep anymore
because in sleep that is where monsters
breed
I will just rest on your ancient body
my heretic muse
spreading thaumaturgical words
from my fingers
to heal your
infinite annihilation
I will become integral part of
the mystique
post-human catastrophe
until you reborn from the ashes
of a dogmatic past
and head to the destruction of
heathen temples
my virgin
golden age
the lay painter draws
deconsecrated metropolis
in the hyper-space of technique
in the eternal trail of genetic
somebody will be punished
reasonably me
the world is so static that it could have a
spontaneous combustion
knowing to be in fireproof hands
protected
by the existence of a
repudiating god
before and after the creation of things
we are orphans
before and after the creation of things
we are neglected
Deceived by Natural Right
Embracing a Material Religion
the wise man Kneels to a Malevolent Demiurge
Obscurity envelops what obscure is
obscurity envelops the obscure-minded
