V. The Confession
In my previous life i was a predator
i relied on death to give me life.
i swore an oath to a chemical signal,
and the feedback stimulus which echoed in my maw.
today, i am a shepherd
fetishized to feed
the pretender's goat
and the battle for Eden.
i desire only what i lack.
i aim my confessions
at the rising sun.
starry is the fire
of my sacrifice.
it reveals the wish
in my whimper.
i have a violent soul.
my words are murderers.
my mouth is a vacuum.
but i dare not act.
raw language will devour the symphonies of angels. aeons will laugh at each other's faces. each of their smiles will pertain to their tortures. consumption has an angelic touch and each of its mythologies have a son who kills his father.
if we could only judge ourselves
there would be no need for hell.
Selah.
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