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Crawling sickness

This scathing obsession with human flesh

The scent of rotting prompts illness in my mind

While masturbating with old bones in chambers

Where I contain all the ashes of the world

My morose condition, I dream of only blood, rust, and cum, and screaming in torture

Solitude eats at my fingers, snapping like my splintered soul

An ancient secret I cannot control

Murder on mass

Can’t we see the signs of depravity?

The veil is opaque and counterfeit by kings

And sold to us as salvation

Open your fucking eyes and bite the fingers force fed

Humanity’s long-lost laryngeal spasm

In constant reflux, we’re whores to a cunt-raped system

Stifled resistance to criminal ideology

Do we not remember the promise of oblivion proclaimed by us, endorsed by some?

We will die in this dystopic kingdom