For forty days
I’ve been struck
by visions, constant nightmares
and random decadence

who does feed us these visions?
who counts the heads in a grave?
like a serpent of royal blood
calls us from the dark?

for three nights and days
I have followed the path between the graves

searching for the presence
slithering on the edge of my mind

turning my efforts to fruitless cinders
veiling all reality from all eyes

slain be the slayer
on the cross he has built
what a splendid vision
to accompany the fall

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