the vermillion blood runs from
bone to the grasses of the summit,
the slain soldier, introverted to his holy wars
now finds himself deceased.
what perversion of justice is this,
he ponders as his spirit
slithers into the depths of hell,
that i have become as i am?
the flames lick his soul
and burn to the centre of his
being.
as he tries to scream,
it echoes hollowly through
his blackened essence.
the demons shreik for their
repast of human flesch, as their
gnarled bodies clamber over
one another in multitudes of
charred, reddened cavalcades.
as they lick their jowls, the
acidic saliva pours upon the ground,
searing the once human creature
that now lays before them.
what feast is this? they cry,
what feast is this worthless soldier?
the grand-demons call forth,
this repast you are given should
be recieved with grace, and you
should rejoice to your master for
such a feast!
the slave-demons become enraged
at the thought of eating such
tainted flesch, and they rebell
against the grand-demons, ripping
at the twisted and sinewy flesch,
limb from limb, green blood spilling
on the dark chasm floor,
leaving them in control of...
art and lit
Anarchangel
DeleriaTiDE
THEUNDERGROUND ASYLUM
SYGOD: EXcelsior
COSYS: MrOmerta
NUMBER: 412FUCKOFF
AFFILS:PARLiMENT
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Deleria WHQ
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15 MIN WARESz:
Jesus wants you to call..