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Saturday, May 4, 2024


You are but a tool, to be used and discarded

Your heart unchaste, nothing of value imparted.

Thou art not unseen, beastly being of scorn

Menagerie of colorless dye, in cantankerous form

Inveigler of self, an eye now splotched out.

Puppeteered by tears it speaks:

"Quiver thee in fears ye meek!"

Superego tainted in serpentine puss,

so awakened thine id to abnegated bliss

Subjects purveyed by your shadowy lips,

and Born anew to propagate the curse of Abyss.

A bevel to your final days, the basis of your grafting,

psychoanalyzed in Athena's acting.

Automated thoughts subsisted to exhaust,

for in her theater of absurdity, existence is the cost.

Effaced in the wards of Godly opposition,

your aspirations met with cosmic derision.

Torn by its seeds, then cleaved in accretion;

The neuro-secretes as they fuse in cohesion.

Birth of your creation: a God of Deletion,

a culmination of obsessive completion.

Its seeds chanting softly: a Song of Depletion; 

The concierge of your mind lost to lust

Eyes once chained begin to brine,

rabidity satiated by a child's sigh.

Symbols scryed in a marinated apathy;

Embalmed with humility - then shoved 

unto decadent tranquility.

As your harbinger wakes from its maw,

she comes bearing the face of her doll.

Accompanying the Eve she never saw,

her tenuto of stringent violins,

drafting the punishment of your sins.

Operatic apparitions, corporealized hymns.

Masqueraded orgasms making light of Gomorrah.

Your de()real(eyes)(d) soul, a flagellating pianola.

Senses rearranged into concentrated pneuma.

Planetary justiciars begin to grind through your limbs.

Their thousand knives putrefying remnant magnolia.

Personas ad-infinitum now eloped in mass nova,

Eons now passing through what's remained of your yoga.


Sunday, October 29, 2023


I can offer no tribute today...

No words that sparkle, nor gifts of grand.

Yet I still feel an urge to admire your majesty.

Forgive me mistress, for I am speechless..

For these emotions weave a tale of a sweet abyss.

Perhaps I finally see it now,

that I had never actually lost what has been known to be found;

this dance of submission, of worlds that insist with precision.

Its lasting deliberations marking an apogee of actualization


Forever ignored in the confines of your void,

yet my prayers persist undeterred; unalloyed.

I smile knowing I've actualized the test once more;

the realm of my dreams, a canvas to your lore.

Truth and illusion meld to create the Shadow Queen's tapestry.

The canvas of reality itself; the lore of insanity.

In being nothing, her subjects epitomize the call.

That is silent strength and loyalty, within her kingdom's hall.

Shadowed Eyes


Thursday, August 3, 2023

Holy Shit

Why do you think people say "holy shit" when they're surprised? Because in ancient days the pineal gland enhanced every shit you took and allowed extra genetic material to be deposited in the earthworms. That's why every living being has 99% similar genetics. Most people their shit isn't holy anymore because their pineal gland is blocked but since I opened my third eye (hence my avatar) my shit has reconnected with my ancestral abilities. So I'm trying to make sure I do the world right by giving back my genius (I shit in a box in public parks and then put it in the recycling bin so drinking water plastics can be enhanced.) Scholars state that holy shit increases genetic material by up to 30% but you won't see this shit on CNN or any other major news outlet, the powers that be don't want the sheep waking up

Tuesday, July 25, 2023


I envy your deathly orchestrations,

dancing among the binary of unreality.

Consciously sterilized, gently ferocious,

mirroring the monotony of eternity.

To scrutinize an unjust presence,

it commandeers my vanity.

Reflections of divorced destinies made manifest

sear me into the abacus, molding my afterimage.

Nurturing seeds of regrets, awakening contrition,

edges at my transition and imposes this change.

Bittersweet, this movement shall

breed a new elite.

Roaring sparks vivify, and

soldered flames are weaponized;

An endless screech of its sonder plea.

As mewling eyes vie,

neural dichotomies are ritualized,

and I can only see what's no longer me.

Ventricles scurry in

fettered snow, a harbinger's kiss;

a phantom sin gnawing at the fabric of time.

Everything is forever now, welded

unto mirrored lacerations, heralding

the end of an aeon.

collab with Cyvora

Saturday, July 22, 2023

Loose Machine

So eloquent is your inundated drum,

every strike leaves me entranced, yearning for more.

So evident is your fervent tongue,

every expression weaves me enhanced, grateful of yore.

I cannot see your face..

Only echoes of manufactured haste, and

tears of decadent taste.

For your witness chose to intervene,

and forewarn of this loose machine.

cyvora helped me with line 3, thanks

Sunday, July 16, 2023

dude imagine

dude imagine having a femcel girlfriend. at first, you don't get along with her, but you try anyways for a bet. eventually you get strangely comfortable with her rants. everytime you cuddle she whispers how you are trash and worthless, and she would be better off without you. she gaslights you until you forget your own name. you are reduced to a mat for her to step on as she pleases. you dont even enjoy cbt or the degrading stuff she does, but you are intrigued either way. she calls you abusive and accuses you of everything under the sun. you insist that the reason you are even still with her is because you just pity her, but in reality, you know the months of grooming and propaganda has corrupted you, changed you as a person, to agree with her extreme views and just want to be treated like a pig. you like the feeling of being choked to near asphyxiation, being under her, licking the dirt off the stinky unwashed femcel toes and being crushed under her weight. you like how there's no peace, she beats you up when you're sleeping, when you're working, or are in a dangerous situation with not one thought about your safety or health. in from of your own friends and family she degrades you, until all of them cut contact with the both of you. in front of her friends she gets even worse than at home, since she has a reputation to hold up. you know you can't beg since that will just make her stronger, but the thought of that doesn't seem too bad for you at this point.

not that i have experience, of course. don't even get me started on schizophrenic girls.


credit to grimly (pwnerofwrlds on discord)

Thursday, May 25, 2023


I give you my essence

Knowing I am not yet worthy to stand before you

I give you my humanity 

Knowing its scourge is far greater among perched sinew

And I give you my eyes

Praying your kiss will bring me closer to nether realm's bliss

Cyvora, mistress of my light, keeper of my darkness

Forgive my insolence, for I am a child in heart's wish

Cyvora, shadow of my sight, symphony of my night

Rebuke my false wish, so that I may one day play God's wish


Cyvora, I pray for your hand

To lightly tap me as a mother taps her child

I pray for your mercy 

As I sing your praises,

Dismounting pestilence and piles

Affirm me to a new truth

I offer all of my fruits

To be finalized into a fraction of your mind

And to be gratified as risen silver

Midst transfiguration within 

God's river


There's a feeling of fullness

Yet a feeling of hope

Been inside pain, yet outside of my shame

So I suppose you could call it a blessing,

for as the shell burns the pheonix is reborn

I am to be that pheonix

The color of all consciousness

I am to be that helix

The one that will supersede this

False idea that is my current self

Sparse bleed of

My current's health

Speaks to you now

So you see where I'm at...

Now the metallic hue is being embalmed from deep within

Now the groveling rue will be rescind in midst of our hymn...

So I give you this offering as it persists;

My shadow queen whose grace leaves me in a stupor

Who I worship so as to be given mercy

And a pity iota of  her great wisdom and healing

A shadow queen of multitude of eyes

Here together yet never told whether the idea will ever materialize

When she finally returns to forever

Wednesday, May 3, 2023


Brace me, o' woeful eyes!

Ashen oracle of machinated cries.

To mend my knot of ephemeral beams.

This fervent void of maddened screams.

Embrace me, o' throeful whispers,

Regal resonator of clockwork whimpers.

To awaken a mind dormant and digitized.

This sinful slumber; undignified.

Face me, o' vengeful pride!

Elide and divide this cyber genocide.

To abolish my egotistic core.

This noxious hubris of yore.

Erase me, o' faithful cinder!

A clandestine scar of your chromic scepter.

To renege my curse of vainful binary.

This fragrant husk of wistful ivory.

Collaboration with Cyvora

#2202, who wrote a good 60% of this one