As mine infestations of pestilence and madness creep from house to house, I watch their magnanimous unbecoming, exultant. Their iniquities laid bare, delirious flagellants indulge fleshless perversions, searing wounds merging with handfuls of salt. As every cross burns to cinders and as the grayest of their days pass on and the graves swallow them whole, I bask in the embers left behind. Thine nocturne weeps with seraphic tears and growling horns. This shan’t be any great loss, for they wrought this upon themselves with the acidic condemnation dripping from their snarling tongues, all done in the illusory name of faith. I see a majestic blood moon drift by beyond the trees, burning with glee. Morning’s crimson cloak will soak in the sweet wine of their loss, and so too shall I. For I am the conflagration that ate them all away. I am calamity.