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Pray thee, sources of might

Blade beckoned children of lesser caste

Grovel at hand to feed upon echoed slight

Worm lined halls of the affluent past

Enslavers heralded the insolence and barbarity of archaic religiosity

Mutated to a self-cultivated philosophy and festered unto today

A divine right of psychic-vampires

They feast from a sullied table of the old guard, long dead

Pray thee, sources of might

A world bloodletting

Stony, vacant, in the face of global death

Glassy eyed, in the face of global fucking death

Machines devour as I gaze upon thy world-flesh

with famished curiosity but suffer the loss of discernment or care –

is it not better to have caressed her exsanguinated form?

the lubricating life-oil.

A tree grows from its (death) seed

Nurtured by history

A perpetual mode

of consumption and defecation