Postmortem Caricature/Tubular Hypertrophy

Like the dancing of the crystals of snow On the surface of the lake of fire Through the open wound Of the door to your closed heart My stare into the abyss Reflections of your Bethlehem Clouded by a black sludge of “A realization of uncertainty” Known as putrefaction. Through the corridors of cold denial You forged a new Devil Cruel creature of habit With your rituals Your veil of Eschaton avails not Effigy of the begotten Sacrificial exsanguination The wooden cross rots as termites devour The oak and flowers Solomon the solo monkey king Split in twain Pandemonium has the greater keys Sorrow be thy name That your perdition still stinks less Than the excrement of your fathers About paradise Is Armageddon once again Sorrowed be the apostate Pending the cessation of superstitions, A severed soul and several of your toes Are avulsed. Archangelic prostitutes Greet from the green clouds Of meadows on the golden fork Oh the truth tastes Like bitter orange and sour grapes But I much prefer it over the sugary raincoat.