The tower

18|9|20|21|1|12 — 13|1|7|14|21|19

1998
Spoken: 2001

Cranium exploding cataclysmic catastrophes, mark deception in air filled living spaces. Gather life ugly, when the crown of heaven has washed the the face

Everything is a paradox, existing unwanted in this place called sanctuary. The meat had filled the stomach. Rich criminals lay in wait to trod the innocent for sick sardonic trophies. Mutated, emotional cries mean nothing to the soulless legions gathering a key to the doorway beyond.

The salamanders eat flesh and hiss fiery curses, purifying nothing and killing the will to protect. This hell hath a sick face inbred, a six fingered beast fucking, sodomizing, tormenting the pure of heart. Every moment lives till the end of time in this abyss.

I suffer sin gaping life pads years of change and allows the monster to come forth again. It’s razor claws to rip out the human heart and vindicate the theft, brought through the living in this mental plague. The plane of air is polluted with filth.

Vicious focus on murders, the defilers with godly names banished us in fear. Psychic cruelty, plants seeds of annihilation while the bandits lay in wait for the Josheph’s coat. The shimmering the coat is hidden and nothing will let their idealistic profanity rip it away. As the monster is cunning, and the cult of greed has awakened it’s unholy sleeping god mammon, I cringe. It is all over now.

The queens pawn has been moved opening the king. The noose tightens as the robe sings taunt.

We fall to the night and the rage dissipates for a palliating hand.

We will scream up vile legions to protect the innocent holy mind. The sacrifice of the a monster’s love in this dirty place is an illusion. Incantations of suffering, will give new found torture to the black soul phantoms listening to their god Mammon. They will gloat and sit fat in their arrogance.

Satan…
Ihova…
Krishna…

Doesn’t matter with the rip of the cord! Tear the heart! Create the hole in the soul! This exorcism begins in this city filled with contemptuous slimy humans, boasting what they can not understand… Their pride shines on things they are not proud of, and the the lost sheep are tarred by their self deceit.

Judgement has come and the armies of the living light march forth invisible. The Reaping is nearly through and the pretenders live in squalor.

It has all just begun.

The whore of Babylon is dead and the child burns, thirsting in the desert. My hand is pulled to this page and my hand can not stop. Rage fills my soul, rage against the minions of the damned, rage against the unholiness that I live in.

NO!

The cup is empty and the Golgotha paints a new picture. Blood dripping down the cross, darkness fell, the lamb was slaughtered. And with ego and lust all the sins of man exploited the lamb in the muse of 2000 years. The explosion is unavoidable, the beast will rise. They will all worship him. Yet he is not what they believe, he is what he is and he is terrifying.

Wounds and stigmata forgotten by the creatures under Sol. A new paradigm will rise and with this weapon they will murder their gods.  The mark has been placed, no seal of the one will save them.  The heavens are sundered by the illicit cruelty, and the creatures of Eden have spit in their God’s face! Like Sodom and Gomorrah the fires of heaven will burn away the plague of evil. The script rolls throughout the sicked limb of the tree. The pillar of righteousness has fallen, crumbling from man’s sin.

This I speak…

 

2701

I am a stranger wandering your world, looking for a way home.

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