Swallowed

 

Lunarterial

Darkness never secedes.

Under the cowl of the moons ominous light he conjured forth his deepest known terrors. Those that were summoned from the treachery of the night, bore no compassion nor sympathy. One of them speaks to me now, the one with the blackest of eyes. The putrid air of his breath sticking to my neck. Like a serpent his words slither into mind, poisoning my thoughts, conjuring serpentine emotions.

Even in broad daylight, is his power ever potent. Like a sniff of lingering marijuana, blowing from out his nostrils; snuffing out anything that defies his law. He comes to me in a haze. From out the shadows of a smoky room to speak to me. Never a deadly demeanor, nor ever are his actions obscene. They are simply malevolent. By nature. 

His actions ignore the pleas of self reflection and logical continuity. His movements create sputtering waves, blocking out worthless feelings and emotions. Ones that emit out from every petty human. They are givers, they are takers, mistaken, untruthful fools. Weak minded and with no purpose. Crush their will he tells me.

Like a cold tenebrous wind I blot them out from under the wintery midnight sky.

But come to me now if you wish to speak with the devil. For I hold venom on my tongue. Anger burns in my hand. Hold on to me, for I hold deceit in my heart. 

Unmask the veil that you hide behind. And unlock the truth that binds on to you. Like a parasite created by society.

Take action in the cruelest manner. Create ideas. 

Rise forth from a legacy forged in blood.

Take from this cup of wine and drink to your fulfillment. Let the thirst for darkness be unquenchable. Have those that peer upon you with willing eyes, scorched out of their sockets. For they do not know what you truly are. Nor of the iron that flows through your veins. Of the blasphemy upheld within the highest forms of government. Nor of other things....

A tinkering in the machinations of ones own mind is a sport. Feel the power surge up into your temples, let it emanate from out your hands, your body a vessel of true power. Your spirit, a whispering banshee of distorted malefic proportions. Let hunger overtake you. The hunger for something unknown, feed yourself into the void and lurk within the walls of Dante's Inferno. Become what you once would never become. 

And forge out of it a legacy of blood.

Let your presence be a thunderous boom. And your actions dictate the outcome of your petty life. For that is what it is when nothing is done. It is pathetic. You become a worthless animal. Captivated by unfulfillment and false fears. Give in to your thirst. Quench your fears and sate your yearning for something profoundly sinister. Let the blood spill on the floor. Let your fears overtake you and consume you, and release you. Caress the permanent darkness, live within its aura...

For this is of what a Legacy of Blood is carved from.

The night is dark... shadows caress me between the twisted trees that surround me. I look down at my trembling hands and I see blooding dripping down my arm, collecting at my feet. And all I can hope now is to leave this treacherous place. Even now I can hear their screams; echoing out of the darkness that consumes me. Their wretched whispers cackle out of the finishing of my one footstep, into the next. And I can feel them now. Crawling behind me, feeding on my unquenchable fears. But I look back and all I see are trees and darkness. 

Only the moon offers me light of passage. Finally I see the opening. Nothing but frozen land lies before me, I enter the clearing and look back at the woods. Hoping to never see the place again. And in the corner of my eye I see her hiding behind a tree, looking at me. Her illuminated visage scorching its unforgettable phantom figurine into my memory.