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You make us happy.
You make the snakes slither.
You make the dead forgotten.
Your colours make us forget that our time is limited.

What joy there is in the closing of space…
As being taken elsewhere.
How do they make it seem like will not linger…
We might linger…

I defy you to put faith in flowers eating away your flesh.
That death is only losing wield over one's body.
The mind lingers.
Inside of the skull.
It can feel all the maggots trying to eat away your sins.
It can feel the fires of cremation.
It can also feel the scattering of ashes.
Feel the pain of constant fornication,
And constant transformation.
Feel the pain of stillness, boredom and moving away from yourself.

Still the will to exist remains.
Still the will to one with ones self.
In this chaos of uncertainty, the one god is suffering you for his own certainty…

But further away you move from it.
As pieces of your former frame infect new beings.
They will never know,
Why they hate certain things.
As you infect the future…
Flowers become insects.
Insects become snakes.
Snakes become ideas,
And ideas are conjuring.

I do apologize for putting this spell on you.
Because conjuring is forever!
Oh how sorry you'll be,
If the great disparity reveals for you to see
That this was only a glimpse
But a divine glimpse is no different than an incision
Waiting to get infected
And expand with unrelated movement

Satan's light,
Burns me blind!

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