The Day Death Came
"The true moment of shadow is the moment in which you see the point of light in the sky."
Sitting poker faced, eyes boiling with greed
monsoon waves of howls, kin of eastern winds swallow the sun
glints of saintly candescene swim between my
PUPLIS
Engulfed By Greed
Sat across from me a rambler of vain pleasures
A hylic soul meant only for this dimension
A king, A queen, a spade of space pried open by the reapers scythe
Whispers of joy infected my gums, baring a fleshlly, toothy grin
born of satan and his fortress, conceived in the wedding bed of
nihil.
“God, above author of my soul, why let fester such an evil as the poker face of death?”
I sat murmuring in the dying black light in the pointed vapor of the celling above.
Caged in a chrysalis forged by my own hand..
pincers aged in steel, breed in Christ tomb
adored as Vatican jewels.
catacombs of bullets rain
in static scarlet fragments
Reaching for the eight eyed hydra of lead
aiming it toward Morrison
smiling he brought his forehead into the hydra’s recclarient jaw
Guffawing in a flied of schadenfreudic air
Elevating
the hydra, it white heads shrink back, its jaws clamped shut
collecting malice
“Your malformed destiny, your zaberism, this kakistocracy of your own creation.
The payment, the debt..is your life".”
Furrowed brows rolled in a silent howl into the halls of nihil
a seed of purple planted gracefully in the soot of Thanatos’s garden.
Launching backward out of his throne wood,his forehead
a wrthing mass of scarlet dancing in the lull of frozen time.
Wormholes mothered by a wedding of light
the peak of the celling, spinning infinitely toward a transection
Realms of golden molars and tusk of war elephants.
“Morrison, son of darkness,born of wealth, breed to dominate what are you now but a fallen mass? death bound at the zenith of eternity. When your flesh becomes wine for the dogs at the gate of death, luminous in the hearth of a wine-dark mountain,tell your ancestors, rulers of fallen empires-Beast Of no clemency….THIS CENTURY IS MINE.”
As the gyrated apertures gathered the nadir flares of an engine of genius, eye laden
tendrils of murder ruminating in the dusk,the day death came.