son

Come one unto the seeker, for my cascades of blood may
honor a taste of deuce trimmed in Vail of misery
as if the hells have illuminated a fashion of pain , paging forward
the payment of angels wings strung from a crooked halo that I  
grant to slave brimstone queer shade of innocence
 
 
Need I change the mirrors fold of six penance charm
in a beautiful relay of blackened drums filled with Lucifers
death toll , flesh to bone , from amany carcasses lost souls withering
in stone hands cold and strange as if lingering over fires  
hailed from lakes as i desire to be a god
 
 
Fore thirteen days ago the thief I played dinned with my
murdering sense of confession as mourning felt senseless
as if eulogies erased the feel of the burning chum from a bittersweet
Underworld where I dance with sinners ridding empty prayers  
lost in a time of kings and whores wasting each breath upon
Voices crying from the nine gates of foolish tides
 
There I fall too stand beautiful in the hands of deuce steadfast not in
charades yet clovers fore I lie within the temple of flawless Hebrews and Devine graces of reality as I voice that I am my father's son