1.11.08

Its not anger.

your worst fucking nightmare.
what you escape from will follow you and swallow and you will be disgusted at what you have done.
your mercy at my will.my body in the hands of too many people.
tell me, its a choice you make.
your own breath begins to betray your entity, it stifles you like a psychotic killer on the roar, rape and bury you in cold mud.
across those moss beaten stones, you shall lay in a tangled mess of occult inscribed pages,sadly just a rotting partially decayed stench filled mass.
Go find her, plead and make love to her.
Before I hope you die.

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