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Hellraiser: Dark Inkantations (Hemisphere Ten)
Hemisphere Ten: Black Lotuses
“Is it not of the imagination that the sharpest pleasures arise?” - Marquis de Sade
(Temple of Soledad, High Priestess of Leviathan)
Clouds of Leviathan awaken in my perception, reflections of themselves, seeking themselves out, shadow matrixes of neurons, each on the verge of critical mass, epiphanies of apocalypse and rebirth.
I feel her eyes in my veins, circulating a primal wind, weaved through fields of poppies, absorbing broken rays of the sun, distilling a cold calculus that compels quantum leaps across dark divides.
The clouds shape shift.
Figures of naked acolytes in ferocities of union.
Reaching orgasm, as hooks, at the end of chains, tear open the vocal chords of Heaven to speak in tongues of unspeakable pleasures.
Awe as shapeshifting, Leviathanian configuration of chaos, a constant of revelation and concealment, an inescapable magnetism.
A blue electricity surges over the surface of the churning maelstrom of black and grey clouds of Leviathan.
Everything disappears.
She is standing before me.
Black eyes.
We begin to rotate inside of the secret of dimensions.
Black raven wings ascend in black lotuses, opening, like invitations to worlds of exploration.
Worlds of untold pleasure.
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