Where the Worm Never Dies


The maelstrom maw of vulgar abominations-

A pit of unequaled, gore-gullet lamentations.

Fodder for fire and crafters of serpentine speech

In communion like host and bedeviling leech.



Such spirits as chased allusive Liberty

And, in life, placed Her on a throne,

Now spiral and feast on the fruit of deceit-

The anguish of shattered bone.

And that man joined the carnival of carrion souls,

Swept to dismal dwellings below…

And the malice-wont tongues that licked his temples-

With despair and damnation in tow…



"No hope nor love remains for you!"



"Hold thee no hope for salvation…

…No tear shalt thou hold 'hind thy eyes…

…The scourge and the pit shalt thou feed

In sorrow unrelenting and hunger vast…"



"A ministry of midnight and bloodshed supreme,

Of terror and tumultuous death-

Where flesh meets crude fangs clotted and coated

Yet starved amidst gluttonous ravages!

The gall and the bile, a vinegar wine-

Sinews devoured and rent from each limb-

All shall thee encounter and moreso endure

If it meets my infernal whim!"

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