GOSPEL OF A CURSED WARRIOR

I converse with my demons. The monologues are endless, Dark confessions on scraps of macabre memories. My mouth stays shut after uttering blasphemies, I terrorize my ghosts with the darkness of my fantasies. I stumbled before the gates of hell, It's too late — I'll end up in Lucifer's furnaces. The journey will be chaotic until the final breath, No consolation, only incurable wounds in this infernal abyss. I smile at the angel of death like those fanatics ready to die for a few virgins. My humanity embraces all the demonic facets of its spark, Forever at war with a legion of the damned, A procession of curses on the highway of immortality. A few impure souls to sacrifice on the altar of repentance, Pharaoh's blood to cleanse my dignity, To be a slave for the glory of my oppressors — impossible. To brandish arms — a saving urgency. Throw me a banana, and I'll send you straight to the doorstep of my ancestors. I learned to handle weapons of war in a banana republic. I'm on alert, like those sleeper agents. Servitude and submission are forbidden. I preach peace, justice, and harmony, But I do not fear the horrors of chaos. My existence traumatizes my enemies.