Convulsing labyrinth of flesh conciseness contorted
Attempting to communicate sigils and portents
Signs and portals scribbling of the amalgamated
Rantings of the consumed struggling to be heard
Beyond the screaming nausea of a billion flies
Burning eyes pale unseeing
Observant of everything comprehending nothing
But the totality of consumed being crying to be heard
Beyond the retching pulse of complete and total violation
Will I become like them
You will not
For you are something special
Will I become like them
Not unless you want to
Because you are something special
Nurtured and cherished in the womb of filth
You will blossom and the world will weep
I will shine the world will blind and see anew from cauterised wounds
I don’t know where the words are coming from crawling ever onwards
Into the spiral
We are the spiral
Can you feel its pulsing confluence can you taste the essence of loss
Can you breath its fumes of rendered lives can you swallow it and become the greater self
Crawling in the darkness senses dying blessing made of melted flesh
Scratching rotten concrete fingers bleeding identity is washed away
Pleading empty echoes pain unanswered becoming one with spiral mass
Begging to be answered to be ended grasping for a broken meaning

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