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…
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