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That is where you will fin the light of your end:
in its thunder,
Hell's belly knocking with leashed hungers-
I will pluck from them every tether.
To end your life
would be the most heinous compassion,
to loosen my teeth from your neck.

You will suffer here beneath me,
for there is no loneliness in oblivion that could burn like the pain I have made in you.

You will find permission to a hollow mercy only then,
when the failing bones of equity
splinter beneath the irresistible pressure of ambition, and a brokenhearted sun heaves itself upon the littered shore.
The cruelty shown there...
beyond God's imagination and moderating bounds.
It is the weakest pardon, and you have done nothing to deserve
the tender liberty of death,
the gentle gift of death.

You will suffer here beneath me,
for there is no loneliness in oblivion that could burn like the pain I have made in you.
You will find your end there, in the fucking taste.

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