We will
be fullfilled
and burn mankind
with thoughts of searing hatred.

Despised.
Reprised.
Demised and yet we still breath.
New hope with knives and death's repreive.

Your eyes,
So blind yet still you see.
The lies they preach.
Disguised by love and peace,
they've left our lives in breach.

Unlocked pandoras box.
Vengeance unleashed.
We stand.
The ones who've fallen.
It's time we feast.

We come to spill your blood.
Fed up with timeworn morals.
we tip the scales.

Fed up with timeworn morals.
we tip the scales.

Your eyes,
So blind yet still you see.
The lies they preach.
Disguised by love and peace,
they've left our lives in breach.

Fed up with timeworn morals.
we tip the scales.

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So I say unto thee, inhabitants of pandemonium, As we are sewn to the shadows of decadence, we are like famine. We shall spread amongst humanity, so shall we ascend above all who defy us. But we will not destroy them….. No, we will consume them! Assimilate them; Mold them into a common image, that of our own. For we are the way unto fire and brimstone.
So I say unto those led astray from thy faith.
Woe to thee misguided flock for thou art lost in thyn own cataclysm. Cometh and taste of our flesh so thee might feed on others. Cometh and drink of our blood so thee might become sanguine. For under our sheath lie forbidden pleasures unknown to humanity. Cometh and take shelter by our side from the wretchedness of joy, from the immolation of kindness, and from the desolations of togetherness. We shall guide thee unto damnation.

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WILHELM’S MASS

Insurrection beheld the nocturnal flame.

Lust awaited the throng, robed in the shadow of its sin.

Burnt lavender beneath a blackened sun.

They fused sanguine hands around the altar of ebony.

Canticles of blood and fire oozed from their ghoulish auras.

A horrid weeping danced from atop the altar.

As flames kissed the lips of her flesh,

Shame ascended toward the heavens.

And at the sixth hour… They rejoiced.


Within the scent of burnt flesh, there begat orgies of blood.

Blasphemy impaled deeply into the heart of heaven.

Zeus’s fury stormed down upon the ebony of their deeds.

Condemned by the ego of the divine sow they shunned,

Pre mortem evisceration was decreed.

With not but an axe, the Hatchet man was sent.

And at the ninth hour… They were hacked to pieces.


Will death’s icy whispers chill their steaming masses?

Their remnants scavenged by winged fiends.

What remains of their suffering?

Dried murals of blood tattooed to the altar floor.

What remains of the insurrection?

The word Wilhelm carved in ebony and painted with blood

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first paragraph:

Crimson slaughters. Hollow gazes, complete apathy. It wasn't always like that though. there was a time before hatred, before this ... this bloodlust. And as quick as it had begun the hatred vanished as if some entity or some rage.... no not rage. This was beyond rage. This was pure evil. I felt out of control, detached if you will. it was as if I were peeping in on some horrid creatures lifestyle. It sickened me but at the same time I enjoyed it. I should never have gone in search of that horrible book. twas the book, my gateway to inhuman pleasures unimagined. Or maybe it wasn't my gateway but the gateway through which that evil could get to me. I tried so many times to rid myself of that book. I ask you how a long forgotten, work of art such as the book be impervious to fire, water, and of course blade be destroyed. countless times I tried to give it to other people and still that evil found its way back to me. Don't ask me how but it did. Now that I look back at it I suppose it was destiny. It wasn't until my death that I realized what was truely going on and by then It was too late. So that is the reason I write my memoirs. In hopes that maybe someone capable might put an end to this evil forever.

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