Mysterious initiate. Perpetual night, obliterate.
Embraced red and the hour was long.
An ancient song.
No offering but a mad-horse dragging me along.
Cut, the blood flows.
Stand still on the circled stones the bones know.
Make it run. Make it pour.
Only death will they abhor.
I tripped the Demon. Tripped in. Tripped a lid.
Goddamn right I did.
A utopia was born from inside the room.
Bucket of Blood, deep in this well-known forgotten saloon.
Once more suspended in animation, bonded to an infinite sight - a silhouette so bright.
Void empowered by regeneration.
The trip.
Worship to Isis and Osiris.
My first of many infinite crisis’.
Yet, dreamed remembrance.
Confronted and saved by my own darkness.
The Shades, are singing like hell.
Lamenting salvation stolen from them.
Oh, The Shades, They cry.
Scattered above, and down below.
To die.
Bow down, to my wounded knees.
Immaculate sinner, feeble apologies.
Starring at the pillars as they bleed.
The risen fire, it consumes me.
Blazes of a set destiny.
Speak black mirror.
Inch nearer.
I am here.
To drive the dagger deeper.
Show me swift.
Show me how.
Show me rite.
Right now.
Speak mocked mirror.
To your mocked saint.
Was but a perpetual day.
Hidden in clay.
Yours truthfully, from the waters of immaculate evil.
I, Double Cross the Devil
About the Creator
Sam Vela
High Chief Creative Writer and Editer of the Magic Man fiction writers club of Texas. Self appointed and self initiated!
++ to never forget a desire for music, but to forget a career in accounting++
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