| Souls in GANGRENE, deformed Human Projections |
| Moving, BUT NOT Living, on SANGUIS Vibrations |
| your Pseudo-lifes, please Follow My TEDIOUS Call, VERTICAL PAIN |
| I Dare you: Bury me so DEEP that I won’t Smell anymore |
| the Disgusting STENCH of your flesh |
| so DEEP that I couldn’t see ANYMORE the Pale Colour of your SKIN |
| Dow There, far from the VIOLENT cries of your children |
| and JUST there, far from all your BORING questions |
| Questions, questions, questions |
| May you be DEVOURED at once by your own Curiosity |
| and your Mouth become the most RUTHLESS of all Murderers |
| This is the Chant of the Grand Cosmic Defeated |
| to YOU, conqueror of Everlasting Earthly Frustration |
| Your Smile: Vulgar HORIZONTAL Contraction |
| had always been my Pain, VERTICAL PAIN |
| Ah! Your Smiles… |
| Become Conscious that an UNIVERSE of SEWER hides inside You |
| Silent, but PATIENT, awaits your last heartbeat |
| to start its SLOW demolition Work: MATER PUTREFACTIO |
| And then this Flesh of Yours, once ILLUDED to change the world, |
| shall again FEED the Ground, and the ground, NEW WORMS, |
| continuing a Grotesque CYCLE of Cosmic Gangrene |
| Born from the Wounds of Men, |
| the ONCE preacher of existental Depression, |
| disclosed my Tenebrous DOUBLE, |
| with no Time, Sound and Size: MAGISTER SILENTII |
| I, King of a Woundless Reign, where the Feeble Memories of your faces |
| are just like YELLOWED pictures of Defuncts |
| Where your words, re-echoing far in time, |
| sounds like Laments of a Dying Bat |