Monumentum From These Wounds
Souls in GANGRENE, deformed Human Projections Moving, BUT NOT Living, on SANGUIS Vibrations your Pseudo-lifes, please Follow My TEDIOUS Call, VERTICAL PAIN I Dare you: Bury me so DEEP that I won't Smell anymore the Disgusting STENCH of your flesh so DEEP that I couldn't see ANYMORE the Pale Colour of your SKIN Dow There, far from the VIOLENT cries of your children and JUST there, far from all your BORING questions Questions, questions, questions May you be DEVOURED at once by your own Curiosity and your Mouth become the most RUTHLESS of all Murderers This is the Chant of the Grand Cosmic Defeated to YOU, conqueror of Everlasting Earthly Frustration Your Smile: Vulgar HORIZONTAL Contraction had always been my Pain, VERTICAL PAIN Ah! Your Smiles... Become Conscious that an UNIVERSE of SEWER hides inside You Silent, but PATIENT, awaits your last heartbeat to start its SLOW demolition Work: MATER PUTREFACTIO And then this Flesh of Yours, once ILLUDED to change the world, shall again FEED the Ground, and the ground, NEW WORMS, continuing a Grotesque CYCLE of Cosmic Gangrene Born from the Wounds of Men, the ONCE preacher of existental Depression, disclosed my Tenebrous DOUBLE, with no Time, Sound and Size: MAGISTER SILENTII I, King of a Woundless Reign, where the Feeble Memories of your faces are just like YELLOWED pictures of Defuncts Where your words, re-echoing far in time, sounds like Laments of a Dying Bat And those Wounds, once Deep & ATROX are only Dead Masks on a tragic Marble.
