Inhuman state of phylogenesis
Foul septic organism
We offer the Sun
With thorns her crown
With noxious nectar to bathe
The lips that kiss the afterlife
Dance the macabre masquerade
The destroyer of light
Can you see while gazing into the depths?
Can you touch the shapeless illusion?
Can you hear the echo of words never spoken?
Can you taste your own transitory emotions?