Pandemonium. Crypt obscure.
Wetlands, woods, a night that bleeds…
Sick ignition. Flame that’s sure.
Hell is spawning blackened seeds.
It goes viral. Goes insane!
Lumière. Your dark. My madness.
That are worms that breath out strain,
Drowned-out truth is fading essence.
Crystal balls. And rituals…
Nothing ever mattered here.
Breathing coal – habitual,
These are cubes in shapes of sphere.
Look at me! And taste the blade.
Morning mist. Ascent descending,
Early death but rotting late,
Taking smiles but sorrow sending.
Are you here? Or I am dreamt?
Cry non-existentialism. Deform!
This is nothing. It was meant.
You. In blood. The guilt. My storm.