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Skoptsy of The Lord

Waffle Sock said:
Abruptly interrupted
This is the feeling I reminisce shortly before the epileptic episode;
Is the world going to explode?
I don't know
an ode to the skeptics -
decryptions left to code
Septic mold lines the vessel that feeds
I could not care less about your needs
Knees stiffened from the seizure
Follow the procedure
Violently bites of his tongue
Convulsing
His limp wrist hung, crotch bulging
Engulfing the oxygen that escapes his cracked lips
SUDDENLY FORGETS EVERYTHING
Growling, watching his vision eclipse
Twitching violently in that puddle of piss
Splashing about
befuddled in bliss?

*BRUXISM*
*thrashing*
GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME
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beautiful stuff here mate
 
Waffle Sock said:
Show me your teeth in a threatening posture. Rip all the words from my flesh. Tear them like pages from a book. Tell me how much. YOU HATE MYSELF. Tell me you killed me years ago.

Blood trickles from threads of hair down onto the carpet. What the fuck are you reading now? Thunderbolts fragment the sky like shattered glass. Can't look in the mirror anymore. Palms on the rusted sink. I can feel myself breathe and I want it to stop. Is this intended to be the red flag? Spare me the societal cliches. There is nothing. Nothing on that mountaintop, similarly nothing at its base. Nothing to be gained or lost during the rise or plummet. Meet me at neutrality with your hands tied behind your back. Trust me to not expose your insides to the midnight mist.
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fixed, i believe
 
Can you feel that? That fiery hatred; the hellacious fury. I cannot even maintain my posture for this rage has consumed me. I want to kill; redefine the definition of slay. Fuck murder. Destroy. I want to feel your life leave you. I want to watch you die; to see the consciousness fade out your eyes and your body becomes vapid waste, juxtaposed on the environment as a mere grotesque obstacle. Where is thee enemy? Am I him? I cannot think straight. I want to fucking kill you. I don't even care if I am killed in the process. Bring this fucking pain. I don't give a shit.
 
Waffle Sock said:
Can you feel that? That fiery hatred; the hellacious fury. I cannot even maintain my posture for this rage has consumed me. I want to kill; redefine the definition of slay. Fuck murder. Destroy. I want to feel your life leave you. I want to watch you die; to see the consciousness fade out your eyes and your body becomes vapid waste, juxtaposed on the environment as a mere grotesque obstacle. Where is thee enemy? Am I him? I cannot think straight. I want to fucking kill you. I don't even care if I am killed in the process. Bring this fucking pain. I don't give a shit.
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What a wonderful prayer to our amoral God.
 
The Lord eats mushy nanners. Goomin over words which make no apparent sense, BUT HE FEELS GOOD THOUGH despite the madness. Some bitch gets mad byt she will not be present at the end of the day when i masturbate. I asked her for a kiss. I will ask more girls to meet lips with mnie because it feels good warm and soft maybe sticky i dont know mASHING KEYS LIKE MUSIC PLAYING PIANO PENNY IS SO PRETTY SHE LOOKS AMAZING AM I COMPOSING?
Behold as I will myself into existence,
beautiful creatures are saved by the majestic Egyptian GodKing. His extraordinary feats will be exhalted vicariously with theatrical performances depicting his life. God will assume the role of him. His might cannot be matched. Those women are so fine .
 
Arisen in abysmal whiteness
Facing his deified likeness
Resonating an aura of the Almighty Righteous;
His Majesty,
Such a travesty
To have unduly rendezvoused
after crudely subdued by this calamity
Now, In the presence of the Supremely Magnanimous,
All animus is neutralized
Reality becomes apparently computerized
No longer brutalized by the state of perpetual hate
Played before him is aye super-sized digital portrayal of his conceptual fate
The great, godly machine reboots as his life is reduced to moot.
The ethereal being vanishes.
What to do after this uproot?
The Lord materializes back on the planet
More Holy, less of a brute.

50d680a4b39d66f9ac5fcf92049f0c59.jpg


 
The scent of His thawed corpse is carried from the copse
And up the nostrils of a cyclops
Like absurd visuals interrupted by scenery of waterfalls
And these memories
I cannot recall
But they all
seem to be leading to something.
 
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