We blame others for our torturing. We nurture and then destroy with the pleasure of watching wreathing agony beneath our own blistered skins. Our angst attitude towards the pitiful band of carnage inhaling shadows whom are masters of masters and slaves of slaves allows blame, unsatisfying, unholy, yet nourishing to our poisoned souls. We make the twisted choices and set others weak and self-proclaimed powerful to set our molested wills to our friendly foe. We perish, they perish, all on the landscape of congealing war and catastrophic abominable pleasure which we force others to create and then shift the blame. We pass the buck to our banes, our leaders, our children whose lightposts of dark poser the cesspit dwelling gentile of ourselves created insanely. Sanity struck ‘people’ pay for the misguided shrivelling constitutions and executions of non existent power of non existent people. The fighting, blind and terrible, of demons, dark and uncontrollable as elements in this place. Striving for purity of exasperating view points. Surely we neglected forces witness good or evil is better than the plus. Lives of pleasure and unfailing orgasms, with nymph like beings in orgies of our own design and use. For us it is the good, but see through the distorted wavelengths of parallels and mirror spectrums. It is hell. Would ‘We’ the raped ‘Us’ treat others for our sick gains as we would not be treated, rather slit our veins, gashing, pouring, splitting. We would if we could, we can’t, fortunately for the evil we cannot perish. Punish others, so we remain unharmed, untouchable. Yet it is still us who hide in the unsterile shadows whilst our mutated victims of Hells unvisited stand in the light, matter not time of day or clarity of malignant airs. Heirs are grown, devilish, groaning, hating us and loving them. For it is them it must destroy. Without love for the dead we cannot hate the life we carrion selves cannot twist and destroy our burning hearts without, the unscrupulous desire and carnal knowledge. We are defeatist, yet not defeated. Backwards. Believe in defeat before its poor self rises hideous head and you have complete, for it will not arrive to those who have seen its gargantuan form. We are the slaves of masters, the slaves of slaves, they are the Masters of all of us. What we puny selves give is no longer ours to take or receive. Choose wisely your masters for you are their slaves. Their beatings unnatural, are what you ask your hideous self. Demonic temples and structures of ill for them all, but not for us to take or grasp in slick hands of innards. Shards pierce and scraps bludgeon but they in their temple and we on the front. We put them there, why not ourselves?
