Dexing away the quarter century now, soon i will vacate this place... And where to go? 1.5 bottles of 8oz max left, the world at my feet. I will feed on it all, nothing is greater than this, and if anything is, i will kill it.
this is how i feel.
my new god is being born every day from the fire and the chaos, soon it will rise, and show its serpentine face and smile at me, or perhaps stare at me in contempt, or fear? my ambition rises with such a notion.
more war must come. My god must be born of blood and greed, and there is not nearly enough. Is this the spirit of that transformation i seek? to see the essential frailty of life next to more enduring motivations of empire, blended with desires for power and glory, something of substance, all for pride...
everyone around me has not ears for the music of my sirens, they have only fear for the symbols i hold in awe. But where is the fire, the hate, that i need? the downward movement always seeming on the brink of beginning, always aborted, soon, so soon, i can feel it, if only i could will it so i would not need a faith in it like i do have...
bathe the world around me in blood and fire, let it enrich me where it poisons others or paralyzes them with fear... For the harvest time of our fruits has come to pass...
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