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Isolation & The Blackguard

[Text: T.Scorn / Gideon, I.Hate]

I unmasked my genesis, given inbound patricide
While clairvoyance killed the super-ego and this all died.
I beheld a million brainchildren on the illiberal pyre
And an implacable pandemonium of a prodigious wobbling
Draped in abounding shapes
Gifted a fleece
Hymns scribbled in a hand
shifting in the breeze
As a rabis tragedian, accosting this morale
While their cerulean innocence my laceration of faith prevailed.
instantly gifted, I now fail to bewail their fall, as I sneer at their febrile fear and halter their moribound call.
Patron of
Avatar of
A in heathen lands
Blasted flawless by the
by its drudges and moldering sanctimony survives
Through mystical obese which the samblance of truth denies.
Self-abnegation and abjected to a gallantry-show,
Of needless flimsy threats - the humans of Earth bestow.
Tracing lines mounting glee
a web-cracked smile
Eldritch turns of time
Concoction of mead and
Boundless preternatural wrangling and baspattering profound, in quile and iconolatry and gormless mass is bound. Fragmentation of the perceptive and in the nebulous enwrapped, signing the great necrology - By odius entrapped.
Widower of a numbing
Communal bride
Litaire of immaculate
the "I"
In the maelstrom still imploring in coltish laboured need, the headsmen of heterogeneity are a gasping noxious breed. Dissimulating the plausible, nugatory accolade of disillusion, with eveningsongs of clemency drabbled in pure confusion.
Patron of
of sanity
A bulwark in heathen
Blasted by the sand
Above this quaint opulence, this risible of man, I cachinate as a blackguard, travelling these dying lands. In the ablart of lamentation lupine I walk in knavery, mordacious with an eerie truth - A rampant obfuscating novelty.
of misanthropy
Avatar of
The bulwark of these lands
Blasted by the sand