too much black metal (i told you when i came i was a stranger)
Crazed ghosts cry into faded repose, responses unlimited by depths. Voids turn from eternity to closeted incarnation. Forgotten hinderances tying backwards, binding throats and cries. Sceptered threats face the unknowing pushing shoulders down from pride, into submission's hidden glance. Creation cries for a hand to pull us above the fray past this wretched mess of darkness. Into the glow but is it holy? Only from a distance until we find our bodies alight and the glow becomes a glare in which illumination is damnation and the lights change to fire. We burn with our faces pressed.