History counts its dead in round numbers, euphemisms and statistics? one thousand and one remains one thousand as though the one never existed. Faith
A frigid chill, not of winter blows through hallowed lands. The mastermind of extermination? intervention as a business plan. A sickening feeling sates
They have already written my eulogy though I am still standing and I still breathe. No fear inside? no end in sight? I am not close to that endless night
This final scene I will not see to the end shadows from a fading sun blur into dusk my dream is fraying... A last sigh of relief since time began the
los on this pitch dark plain while ignorant armies clash in the night. There is a war after war and rumors of war exploding from the east. The devils in power
Destroyer of worlds? swallower of lives? leveler of dreams? silencer of cries? seas of fire? rivers of blood? landscapes of ash, excrement, and mud?
All of my years have been a sick charade, trying to stop the clock and trying to end this parade. I got my funeral started a long time ago... Embalmed
A sacrament of the sick? devoured in the bestial lust, engorged in the remnants of a war that every victor lost. A sacrament of the sick? ingested