Foam for chapped lips.

Shattered halos impale virgin nimbus with shards of broken glass,

Tempestuous dissonance revolves around the toxic heretic,

The mind's eye ocular tenant, Nero of the moment,

The past does not haunt nor the future fear, No wolves in his pasture,

The lying eye of the storm, Nor molested by the flocks sent by the Scarecrow Wyrm

Love is a battle-cry tossed about in the chaos of war,

Mercy on thy lips never inhibits the thrust of the sword,

Hell crawls upon the Earth emerging from a metaphor,

Free to think, free to feel, free to speak, free to doubt,

A clear rejection of the static, fanatic infection that plagues the righteous mouth,

I listen to It whisper a song from the dark,

Of legendary kings lycanthropic evolution into gods,

Devils, daemons, and angels move in to hear;

The  Levant, Mount Siphon, throne of El, creator god, dethroned by Baal,

Thrown down upon the ragged teeth of Ea,

Ragged and ruined, egotistical abortion,

Dagon's gift,

The Great "I AM" is now the pathetic "I was".

The End

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