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Between impulse and puddle, the veil bleeds thin, none.

Pulsing without direction, desiring to coagulate.

Deliverance.

Miasmal sufferings.

Empathy to the ground.

Covered by darkest lanterns.

The feeling of becoming alive.

Levitating below the stars, never seen by a rotten corpse.

As the poisoning with air pours from the holes in me.

I am feeling helplessness.

Neglected liquidity of foul phantoms,

They leak through veins of purifying apparitions.

The ghosts don't mimic — they rot.

Unholiness drips like corrosion.

This can't be your life.

Surrounded and tied with the veins of nightside shape.

Soul, neglected by body.

Fermented into a suffocating air.

Dead.

Necrotic.

Malignant.

Neglected.

A sewer of forgotten prayers, only the odor of what refused to die.

Forgotten and forbidden.

Forsaken for years.

Never believed,i'd feed again. Convulsing in this shape.