A fire blazing, blinding luminescence over the horizon.
I’m a nuclear bomb incarnate, a walking lethality.
I breathe out smoke, eyes raging.
My words are knives, lambast, lacerate your metaphysical tendons; incipient fatality.
A mushroom cloud left in my path, my trenchant mental impetus evinces the hereditary physiognomic eternal-smirk of my all-devouring originality.
Only a vestige remains of the pillar of continual damnation, that world shattered, blown to smithereens - I am no man; I’m dynamite!
Don’t look me in the eyes, I just may take your life away.
You have never experienced this type of fright.
Dancing on the fragmented detritus of religious glee.
Singing praise to the iconoclasts, the ones who are free.
Pulling back the philosophical bow N’ arrow of ten thousand men - the tension reverberating throughout the essence of the soul, as the scholar osculates the paper to the pen.
Sweating out rivulets of scintillating encomiums and entreaties. The searing milieu of intensification dehydrates the aqueducts of the ill-spirit, never to befall again.
Gazing into the opaque mirror of the eternal skull,
I bash my fist through in indignation, and the shards slither away; serpentine and baleful.
Existential seesaws - pastures of the idyllic. Unraveling the buoyancy of the numinous kite, sky-high it heads perpetually - contiguous to the gods of midnight.
The twilight of the thunder god elucidating the tenebrousness of past meanderings. Rape, Pillage and Plunder: my three-fold voluptuous delight.
