The Creator Wields the Blade Praying To the Heaven He Made

the fires of punishment growing cold nightmares cracking houses on the edge of sound howling silent hosts flashing scarified hands fashioned like relics on the fringes of reason exploding emotions in a caravan of lost whispers penetrating the logical laws made for all to perish within evenings of flies biting the air invades conversations to reap each syllable flung into the hermetic tomb of memory mute lightning rods splash delivering edicts of death flooding constellations within breath mothers stare like castles made of guilt sternly emitting our life eating its excrement pushing societies toward promontories alive as photographs following footsteps of continual progress chasing desire in the echo of great tyrannical modes of peace shaving years off every door painting the world impossible shades leading with dead eyes flocks of two-dimensional pawns gasping for particles of the secret song stirring…