CeriMond

TW: mentioning of child sacrifice, cult Jumping into the chasm was always an adventure in itself. Normally Ahery didn't like to leave to places without knowing the risk. However with the help of his mymber, the cultist had come to enjoy the little gamble now and then. Such as today, when he hugged the blue colored, teethy minion and took a leap. The ixi closed his eyes and offered a small prayer to The Phoenix as he soared into the chaos that was the Chasm. Colors that were purple, meaty and other colors both named and unnamed swirled past him. He could hear his mymber chattering away happily, Then his stomach lurches as his guide took a deep dive into a crack that had tickled its curiosity. A voiceless scream was ripped from his throat and then he was on a plane he had seen often on his travels. Ahery suspected the mymber had a connection to this place. Time stopped as he floated in the colorful nebula. From somewhere, the horizon or deep within the the nebula rose a being as an eye

wrapped around bones a graceful past; her throat filled with black flowers petals pouring from her mouth, fractured sanity shattered in half her eyes - a gravity of your fears white as snow; empty like dry oceans faints suns; pale stars on the starved sky each day closer to you; looming with threat from above wrapped around night her skin pulsing with ageless music of passing hours bleeding with love, dripping with rotting delight a stark enchantment of decomposing virtue all so beautifully decayed

strawberry juice on your lips ready to be tasted; delicious symphony of flavors sweet like warm blood; even sweeter when filled with agony your skin drips with hidden notes of iron offered to me with a silent keen suicidal moth eager to swallow the flame a sentence of death for my immortality a cruel light burning down my shadow

angels with crimson wings - they came from the frozen night with triangles and cubes - with stars threaded on chains their tears blooming with blood - filling the pathaways with reflections mirrors and candles; wax slipping into open jaws angels with scars - an offering for the cosmic wind carousing through the empty halls pale stone and tattered drapes cold and pure - a word becoming flesh a ruby monument carried on the willing backs a gift for the insatiable

I am made of dreams and nightmares. Of fire and earth. Flaming mirages of good life, that is so close yet still unreachable, like forbidden fruit; juice dripping on my skin, staining it with red and yellow, with sun and stars, but never reaching my mouth. A torture of being one step from the fulfillment, a personal Tartarus of punishment without guilt. I am becoming Hades himself, shaping my torment into strength; I am a king of my own pain, a god of Styx, which flows through my veins long enough to change my heart into a bone muscle, pumping ink, feeding on my own suffering. I am stronger with my shadow. It eats my fear, and replaces it with anger. Which kills my enemies with burning flame, buries them alive in the black soil. My nightmares scream, my prey writhes in the net made of crimson rage and blood thorns. I won't go in peace, I will fight with talons and teeth. To reach the forbidden fruit, to the sound of fate's laughter turning into delicious silence of death.

we release our gloating demons visceral creatures lusting for blood, melting inside us we whisper promises dripping with boiling shadows ascending into heavens - rooting deeper in hell we release our hellhounds hungry for open flesh, they maws trickling of agony and bliss sinners with halos, fallen gods - crawling in rust and coal intrusive delight of gravitating straight into an abyss

your grave - a stone monument made of sorrows choking my throat with haunted marble painting my soul with fire of remembrance lights I feel like the tombstone heaves with cursed breath when my heart lets go my guilt and loathing I chose the path of the wolves - a pack of two running through the misty woods you chose the pathaway of the cat solitary and mysterious - leaving all behind your grave - a dark kiss of goodbye for absent love - which we shared for hatred - we grew in, a fungi parasite I regret of feeding

we are old bones; collected in piles dried on the wind, we breathe extinguished fire we are old blood; stained laces and crepe drenched silk; odour of senility in the ageless air we are old promises; once told, never fulfilled matured resignation, weary anticlimax we are doomed to suffocate in withered chambers wilted skeletons and time-bitten rot