---

He who was brought to life

Covered in filth to meet his end

We welcome him back

His very existence invites sorrow

A Great Whore will suckle until it is fat and can suckle no more

Mortals are but shadows and dust profiting from disease and death

I lied awake half the night convinced there was something in my room

After midnight it occurs to me that I was that something and I fell gracefully to sleep

Now I can slough off my flesh

Patch by patch

In dreams

Tugging the tendons free like fibres picked from teeth

My skin lies like a shredded blanket

The sun heaves itself above the horizon with a triumphant yell

Pain wakes me

The light falls like acid on my naked bones

My body will throb for days

A cup of drowning and devouring wails in my dreams

It has something in common with the scratchings of maddening rats

A Great Whore will suckle until it is fat and can suckle no more

Mortals are but shadows and dust profiting from disease and death

Silent judging eyes

Rats in the dark gnawing at stone foundations

Far removed and detached from that which manifests in dreams

Here lies our King

God forgive us

Escaping from our station is impossible

Hence, nothing remains except our regrets

Each passing memory carved in the sweat off our backs

In a fit of awe he both gelds and flays himself

A vigilant storm bursts joyfully from the remains

Am I alive or am I dead?

It no longer matters

The light in the room is the light at the end of the sun

I am a beautiful ending