Blessed are these tears that have freed me from the shackles placed on me. Bound by a curse too heavy to bear; but yet these same tears bestowed me into this grey dismal consciousness. My wrist can no longer satisfy this melancholy that diseases my heart. A cold chill through my flesh strickens me unfulfilled and dissatisfied. As dusk meets me, I shall make my grave right under the wicker tree where I shall hang this burden we call life. I shall fulfill a life of darkness, cursed by the lord of lords and spewed from his mouth for my defiling taste - motherfucker. Descent to rebuke thy savior, his son: "king of kings". Slaughtering the lamb. I shall prevail.
