An Interest in Satanism

Clearly before time began,
I’d been marked; spewed
World within a centrifuge.

Bubbles rushing towards the surface
Of some Heaven untouched;
Cast out and extinguished
With the blood and body;

The knees have bent
And judgment been declared
And my mouth speaks
The currency of Truth.

Yet there is no rejoicing
Within my soul.

A dirge would be
The only acceptable
Space wherein to enter;
And yet death flees.

Feet face injury
By the cold, uncaring,
Frozen ground
On which I stand.

And the heart beats wildly.

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