June 5th, 2019

Updated: Nov 21, 2019


Temperature boiling Satan's soul heating my anger into a frenzied delirium of waking pain to capture me into a molten state flowing across that I see, a destructive worthlessness becoming my muse laying a path of psychopathic rage once a danger, soon to be my evil slaying sword


The sinner of sanity despairing pleasure of human deliciousness into plated consumption for darkness depleting my soul of lighted nourishment betraying my eternity forging my birth to a destiny of ashes, past sins sourcing, leaking bloody waters curdling my throat with gripping subjugation knowing no bounds but the will of evils wrath until I can force a breath, my soul will continue to be devoured until I no longer exist


A withering venture of exhaustion of my soul into waking nightmares, a living comedy Dante would fear; the shaking, the rattling, only pain I hear, depressing my mind into an emotionless gaze stared into an abyss no human has perceived leaving centuries of building to my grave of Sorgens despair, not a choice nor a solution can rise my conscious beyond haunting's of battled fears never conceived in reality, I am lost in reflections disturbing Bourdain in his grave with acts of destruction plaguing my body, imagery unrelenting pulsing beneath my skin as hope and faith live in the realms of the white witch holding me to my pain, as a story is told, the Greeks tragedy implore a Greco-Roman hold tightening the pains of my breaths as my existential existence ends in the darkness its phenomenology entails, a being in nothingness Jean Paul's story being told, just like before, nothing is new, just humans being humans, an experience I no longer know


Sulking impunity ravishing my mind into a darkened plague of hated disease detesting each step of human faith, a self loathing Kierkegaard would revere awakening a sickness till death lurking like a blackened myth; my will consumed in a nothingness never seen, never imagined layered in depths portraying reality as a passing existence unable to grasp, God help me with my very last breath


Screaming terror within a tormented soul releasing his ailing burdens blistering, no burning flesh through bones, human mortality feeling eternities war pursuing conflicts of human enrage, a life long battle, a battle through history, a battle you hope you never feel; for St. Michael's vengeance is most brutal of all, running into plagues of death with his mighty sword; he will not stop, he never fails, this is the story of the Golden Lion’s St. Michael of Wrath


My passions unfiltered, my desires to build conceptual perceptions upon

The targets of my soul, a gargoyle of sorts hiding in plain sight, just look and see

My eyes staring blatantly upon you, a feeling you cannot escape, encompassing you

As my gaze enters your soul you try and look away but but the depths of the oceans in

My gauntlet being lay'd for your destruction, mesmerized into immortalization of purpose


My stare, brutal in transpiring purity upon soulless victims

Is my intentions of wrath, a new form up risen from beyond

My initial grasps now nothing more than a tale of human plight

Guiding inertia to new deceptions of those I care to demolish

My teeth grinding behind my guise, a rupturing of mountains occurring

As I seek to move this earth to a new world structure of this is...


My integrity growing, my brutality resting, a passive resistance

Imploring constructs Freud only wish he knew, tilting to anew,

My desire to give with relentless pursuit of a mind eternally devised,

A gift of it is all so simple, just listen and life will arrive


A long told story, just the same as before, with only the touch my life can bring

My duty, my care, my purpose does not change, my will bearing upon this world

Just as each have their role, mine is simple and clear, a life long story told many times before

My vengeance bleeding my creed conquering legends of myths

Deciphered through acts of melancholy baiting challenges to arrive


© 2019 by R. Cary