The purest of all Holocausts shall be perpetrated By a loving hand, never knowing if it provided felicity Or the vilest of everlasting

T O R M E N T S !

I have set out; I have destroyed all that was my life. Every possible connection is severed . Every vein, every capillary, opened. Every tear drop of crimson running from my eye sockets , every scrap of flesh and every crumbling scab, every pustule that creeps its way across my body, all are bursting forth, shedding onto the floor in a stinking mass of putrescent flesh. My diseased tongue is spilling forth its pus, my toenails are falling off. My hair is pulled out in clumps, my scalp has become shredded and burned. My wrists have thousands of cuts in them--I have a hard time imagining the skin of a man to be capable of recovering from such severe tears, red ditches carved into fragile valleys. My stomach has become ulcerated; my intestines, necrotic; my eyes, [redacted]; my lungs, blackened with smoke; my brain, tumorous and inflamed. There is rust surrounding the wound where the Organ of Sin once resided (the old saw from the shed was not in very good condition).

All of my experience is now blindness and pain, and naught but a sickening bloodstench besides. There is hardly anything but bones left; and what of me is left in the bones?

I have set out to destroy my own life, and I have succeeded.

(have I made my resurgence, intact, out of Infamy?)

Eth, The VVICXDtiM,
INVIDIous of those 'I's witch grantth seyete to radiant LOGOS
Quivering of speech, recites tHIS mantra:
“...Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done.“

And the Father spoke unto him, saying, “Thou shalt bringeth the chalice of divine wrath and final consummation To thine lips, and drink with confidence... Tell me, sweet child, why are tears rolling from your eyes?“

 And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground.

And HE, perpetually darkened to the rays of purest utterance, wavering of word, speaks HIS mantra

"Not my Will, not my will, not MY will
But thine, thine, thine,
BE DONE" PLEASE END THIS PLEASE LET IT BE DONE!!!

 And the Father spoke again, saying, “Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, Not only in my presence, But so much more now in my absence, Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling...”

 ...And the vvictim, blind to the radiating Light of Truth, stuttering, repeats
Lamma Sabacthani,
Lamma Sabacthani,
Lamma Sabacthani...

When Merely ($@^Gv)Vinegar Stills Your Child's Thirst...

I let you kill me
I wanted to feel the needles in my eyes again
Let the worms crawl, chewed, through my teeth
I wanted to feel you plant your seed in my ruined
blubbery neural tissue
I wanted you to stoop down, drenched in glittering tears
To the pond of my gore, to taste all I have to offer
Let you drink my blood
Oh yes, drink me
Drink all of me and thou shalt shrink unto tallness
To fit through the keyhole in impassable door,
Paint your throat with crimson silky petals
That flow past the razor from my arms
Do you not like the taste of blood?
Why did you ask for blood if you never wanted BLOOD!? THAT
DELICIOUS RED VVINE, SANGVINARY
CHAINS OF THIS WRETCHED LIFE!?
Blood, so lovely, so warm, so soft...
Pumping, pulsing, flooding through skulls to
your eyes
Giving reddened sight to the bull and matador alike
Through torturer and vvictim
Bursting against the teeth of the dragon called VVar-faire
Crushed grapes, fermented in hatred
Tempered and aged in the finest barrels of genocide
Through aeons of absolute vviolence

Pass this bitter cup? Drink until you vvomit.

IA(M)3V

I am as I become
I become as I am not
I am not as I am
I am as I am not
I am not as I become
I become as I am
I am
become
(not)

No man can see me and live
No (wo)man can see me
and live
No human can see me and
live
NO MAN
CAN SEE ME
AND LIVE!

K̷̸ͫͣ͛̔̃ͨ̇ͯ̅̉ͮ͌̿͏̤̲͇͇͙Ḁ̢̦̝̰̝̟̘̼ͧ̓͊ͬͣ̔ͩͥ͗͌̂̀̄̆̅͘͟͞F̺̩̖̘͍͖͈́͒ͧͪͮ͒̉ͮͭ̌͌̃̎͆̔̋̕͝ͅI̸̧͇͉̻̺͙͊͊ͣ͛̏ͭ̋͐̌ͤ͘͟͟R̙͕͚͕̮̺͖̭̜͈̖͉͈̠͎͉͙͚͑̾ͤͣ̇ͦ̈ͦ͝͝كافر

K̷̸ͫͣ͛̔̃ͨ̇ͯ̅̉ͮ͌̿͏̤̲͇͇͙Ḁ̢̦̝̰̝̟̘̼ͧ̓͊ͬͣ̔ͩͥ͗͌̂̀̄̆̅͘͟͞F̺̩̖̘͍͖͈́͒ͧͪͮ͒̉ͮͭ̌͌̃̎͆̔̋̕͝ͅI̸̧͇͉̻̺͙͊͊ͣ͛̏ͭ̋͐̌ͤ͘͟͟R̙͕͚͕̮̺͖̭̜͈̖͉͈̠͎͉͙͚͑̾ͤͣ̇ͦ̈ͦ͝͝
כּוֹפֵר كافركافر כּוֹפֵר
כּוֹפֵר K̷̸ͫͣ͛̔̃ͨ̇ͯ̅̉ͮ͌̿͏̤̲͇͇͙Ḁ̢̦̝̰̝̟̘̼ͧ̓͊ͬͣ̔ͩͥ͗͌̂̀̄̆̅͘͟͞F̺̩̖̘͍͖͈́͒ͧͪͮ͒̉ͮͭ̌͌̃̎͆̔̋̕͝ͅI̸̧͇͉̻̺͙͊͊ͣ͛̏ͭ̋͐̌ͤ͘͟͟R̙͕͚͕̮̺͖̭̜͈̖͉͈̠͎͉͙͚͑̾ͤͣ̇ͦ̈ͦ͝͝
כּוֹפֵר كافر
K̡̰̠͉̟̣̋̌̄ͣ̔̔͌̍͑ͫ̈́̊̽͜͝Ȃ̵̴̸̱̘̱̥̩̘̘͔̫̞̠̗̌̍̓̽̂̿F̷̙̹͇̥͉̺̮͔̾ͤ̏ͤ̑̄̈̄̐̓ͣͩͤ̑͂̎ͧ͟I̴̢̺̭̦͚̣͎͆͂̑̊̆͛̀̋͗͌̾̑̅̕͠͡R̶̪̦̺͕͖͙͖̪̘̥͓̙͍̭ͬͫ͛̓͗̇̀͢K̷̸ͫͣ͛̔̃ͨ̇ͯ̅̉ͮ͌̿͏̤̲͇͇͙Ḁ̢̦̝̰̝̟̘̼ͧ̓͊ͬͣ̔ͩͥ͗͌̂̀̄̆̅͘͟͞F̺̩̖̘͍͖͈́͒ͧͪͮ͒̉ͮͭ̌͌̃̎͆̔̋̕͝ͅI̸̧͇͉̻̺͙͊͊ͣ͛̏ͭ̋͐̌ͤ͘͟͟R̙͕͚͕̮̺͖̭̜͈̖͉͈̠͎͉͙͚͑̾ͤͣ̇ͦ̈ͦ͝͝
כּוֹפֵר كافركافر
K̷̸ͫͣ͛̔̃ͨ̇ͯ̅̉ͮ͌̿͏̤̲͇͇͙Ḁ̢̦̝̰̝̟̘̼ͧ̓͊ͬͣ̔ͩͥ͗͌̂̀̄̆̅͘͟͞F̺̩̖̘͍͖͈́͒ͧͪͮ͒̉ͮͭ̌͌̃̎͆̔̋̕͝ͅI̸̧͇͉̻̺͙͊͊ͣ͛̏ͭ̋͐̌ͤ͘͟͟R̙͕͚͕̮̺͖̭̜͈̖͉͈̠͎͉͙͚͑̾ͤͣ̇ͦ̈ͦ͝͝ 
כּוֹפֵר كافرK̷̸ͫͣ͛̔̃ͨ̇ͯ̅̉ͮ͌̿͏̤̲͇͇͙Ḁ̢̦̝̰̝̟̘̼ͧ̓͊ͬͣ̔ͩͥ͗͌̂̀̄̆̅͘͟͞F̺̩̖̘͍͖͈́͒ͧͪͮ͒̉ͮͭ̌͌̃̎͆̔̋̕͝ͅI̸̧͇͉̻̺͙͊͊ͣ͛̏ͭ̋͐̌ͤ͘͟͟R̙͕͚͕̮̺͖̭̜͈̖͉͈̠͎͉͙͚͑̾ͤͣ̇ͦ̈ͦ͝͝ 
כּוֹפֵר كافر K̡̰̠͉̟̣̋̌̄ͣ̔̔͌̍͑ͫ̈́̊̽͜͝Ȃ̵̴̸̱̘̱̥̩̘̘͔̫̞̠̗̌̍̓̽̂̿F̷̙̹͇̥͉̺̮͔̾ͤ̏ͤ̑̄̈̄̐̓ͣͩͤ̑͂̎ͧ͟I̴̢̺̭̦͚̣͎͆͂̑̊̆͛̀̋͗͌̾̑̅̕͠͡R̶̪̦̺͕͖͙͖̪̘̥͓̙͍̭ͬͫ͛̓͗̇̀͢
كافر
כּוֹפֵר

"The Hermetists believe and teach that THE ALL, “in itself,” is and must ever be UNKNOWABLE. They regard all the theories, guesses and speculations of the theologians and metaphysicians regarding the inner nature of THE ALL, as but the childish efforts of mortal minds to grasp the secret of the Infinite. Such efforts have always failed and will always fail, from the very nature of the task. One pursuing such inquiries travels around and around in the labyrinth of thought, until he is lost to all sane reasoning, action or conduct, and is utterly unfitted for the work of life. He is like the squirrel which frantically runs around and around the circling treadmill wheel of his cage, travelling ever and yet reaching nowhere–at the end a prisoner still, and standing just where he started."

Subdued

You keep flitting in and out of my dream. It's frustrating. You, with your red robes and black linens. In my peripheral vision, it looks like you have no eyes--like there's nothing there but empty, black sockets peering at me from behind the wall of sleep. Then again, I haven't really been able to bring myself to look; to check for certain that your eyes are missing. I can't remember if it was in a dream or not, but I feel shame either way. . . or perhaps it is not shame I'm feeling--perhaps it is fear; fear that I will finish what I started, and take the rest of what you have to give.

Either way, you are gone from my dream again. Though I know you'll be back.

(the needles told me so)