Merrimack
Omegaphilia
1. Cauterizing Cosmos
2. The Falsified Son
Years of slavery, standing in the blaze of excrements
Keeping my eyes open amongst the dirty deeds of souls
My liver like a rat poisoning the remains of my body
My lips are still moving as if they can still profess
Some stinking promise able to make whores laying down.
A litany of lies, a rosary of mucous membranes
Stuck together to fulfill the whole fucking movie
I swallowed too much, a wasted semen has poisoned my veins
I saw too much, my eyelids are curtains constantly burning
The fetid sunrise has blemished my organs in a single second...
Nothing remains of these years of devotion, black metal ruined everything,
Satan gives no rest, for He spawns the inner enemy
Cosmic conspiracy denies each attempt to die.
3. Apophatic Weaponry
As shapes of the divine retirement crawling in sterile nests
High expectations are leading to high desecrations
The stronger is a faith, the tastier shall be its corruption
Entropic forces exhumed by abstract knowledge
The evidence of His absence is sparkling, a dizziness into the void.
Omegavore : the end of meanings, absolution for the prolapsed soul
Cuts and wounds silently draw the maze to transcendence.
For travelers of the uncanny vessels of noesis and consumption.
Squandering the remains of humanity in total devotion
Ignite, exhale, absolute shall be the process of voiding.
The joy of God is the joy of his absence
His vanishing has left the world ascend,
As an ocean, when leaving the shore,
Creates the wounds and the womb or earth and life
God is the absence of God
Antiseeds placed in us by Its Divine Womb
Have rotted to become unholy germs,
Scabbing shells of inertia and terror.
I leave my corpse hungry, a blemishing aura still tries to shine
Through rottenness I erect my pleasure of being
To desecrate my own creation
Syllable by syllable, letters by letters,
shapes after shapes of his manifestation.
4. Gutters of Pain
I betrayed betrayal itself
As an embedded solution to cast away the global obscenity
Disgusting humans - only walls disguised in beasts, a sordid treachery
Nasty whores in the urge to split their bellies
With some cesarean waste summoned by dead semen.
I collected infections, to remind me that I was sane
Wandering in the streets, filling in the alcoves of the post-urban semantic
A post-human narcotic !
My quivering carcass stuck in stratums of dope, lube and deception
Redefining my dream of autarky in the mud of promiscuity
Whenever I try to rise again, I wane into dregs, muck, and gospel of snorting
My soul ? A scrotal bag, dragged in the gutters
With rags and tatters of spiritual exiled
With rags and tatters of spiritual exiled
Eternally alprazolaming Evil to fit it in tubes and intestines.
5. Sights in the Abysmal Lure
6. Cesspool Coronation
All the disturbances and depravities of the earth were scheduled to be gathered at this precise moment, in this precise time.
All the brutishness,
All the injuries made to physical compensations,
All the slaveries, unexpected rottennesses, sordid hallucinations,
Flattering obscurities lying inside dead shells…
All the injections, all the parodical funeral orations…
(Aldrahn) : Decadence and logic in perfumed irritation,
(A : ) Born from the pain of living,
(A : ) A drugged-out ego dysfunction.
All the retina obstructions through ready made rays
Of patterned fallible light,
Malign enhancements to blindness and foolishness,
Five knuckle shuffles and sick premonitions…
(A : ) Conjuring weakness,
(A : ) Irreverence and bad alchemy,
(A : ) Synthetic vultures,
(A : ) Deceitful mad preachers
All the possibilities of parental decay,
All the whisperings committed by flesh bootleggers
Filling almost dead bodies
With mud and smegma soup,
Manipulations,
Moistening sheets and all nights spent
In relentless fear of God.
All silences contained by broken coils,
All meditations burdened by mediocrity and wounds and fruitless chases,
All E-coli, amplified magnitudes and strong visitations,
All lewd and impure embraces, tropopauses, and smuggled phenotypes,
Haunted parcels of symmetry and fear, all casual shit noise for retarded,
Farting sacred texts, all of that dozen summers left behind,
All death sacerdoces and pointless catechesis...
(A : ) Everyone has gathered at this precise moment inside space and time geometry,
(A : ) Crowning righteousness while everything is about to fall.
Toutes les impiétés, les dissonances chimiques, les bouches riantes et risibles, les cataractes obtenues à travers quelques ready-made de lumière faillible, les améliorations à base de semences mortes, toutes les possibilités de dégénérescence génitale, de pourrissement parental, tous les soupirs commis à travers les tubulures enfardées de ces vendeurs de viandes mortes, tous ces potages de smegma et de foutre stérilisés, toutes les molestations, manipulations, tous les draps à la moiteur entretenue au cours de nuits poisseuses à craindre Dieu, tous les silences contenus au creux des stérilets cassés, toutes les bactéries et leurs anagrammes de crasse, toutes les hantises, les magnitudes amplifiées, les phénotypes de contrebande, les parcelles distraites de symétrie, les textes sacrés flatulents, les étés fanés, les catéchèses jaunies et tous les cultes rapiécés, tout s’est rassemblé à ce moment précis, à ce point de l’espace et du temps, couronnant la précieuse hérédité de tout ce qui est sur le point de sombrer.
7. At the Vanguard of Deception
At the Vanguard of Deception
The mourning I wear is not mine
It belongs to cords made of shadows and melted flesh
This mourning I wear is not mine
It belongs to this rotten shell
Where light dwells blood jars and gaunt masks
In a yelling void
That bounds me to the soil of a corrupted race,
Leading to paths of bites
Channeling me to infected waters,
Abused by the gutter of the world,
Where our flame, cast in flesh
Is nothing but a nail stuck in filth.
.
The mourning I wear is not mine...
But a pigsty where brews my dated passion
For the old satanic archetype
Virgin thoughts as candles blown by winds of an autistic curse…
There's nothing at the core but remains of a mocked divinity,
An ὑποκείμενον wearing the face of the abused child of God
Collecting his toys amongst broken seals of Nag Hammadi.
Oh, Satan, is there a place to rest against thy breast ?
Corrode my lungs and seal my rusted eyelids
Our souls, metastasis made of igneous materials,
Are starving for starvation.
I consume everything I touch, a vagrant time-lapse lives in my mouth
Someday I’ll find that my whole childhood was the dream of a pedophile
My belly secretes a living manure, some AIDS-faced abomination
Able to turn back time and sterilize my mother’s nest.
Time’s poisoning the idea of being,
Cosmos is the reverse of creation
All is fucked, nothing can grow,
Each second cancels a century
Standing at the vanguard of deception.
As a fanatic of my own destruction, I’ve reach the suburbs of devastation, of devestalisation
Praying for the pain to leave, this pain of being here and now, reduced to this collage of infected cells, spreading diseases, greedy symmetry.
You have wept into your little plot of void, molesting the probability of your existence
Experiences of self-injury and self-desecration fattens your experience of God
Now you can see its obscene face, chrome face, behind the veil of matter
Replacing the whole sky
Testing the shooting room.
In Pavore Dormiam, et caro mea requiescet in polluto.
Domine, quis resquiescet in abysso sancto tuo.
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