AND SO THE DEAD WAGED A WAR- - - -crucified upon this cross of imperfection we hang motionless like stars in the blackest sky's for the eyes of sinners to spit a million gazes of hatred upon our mud stained suffering. let the bleeding of our minds trickle down to erode this dirt of purification and may the purest of priests crawl with their bellies upon this soil to inhale the dried remnants of our once moistened blood when discoverance of their wrongs is prevailed in the shadow of their forth-coming days. and so the dead waged a war. even the dead dare to swallow pride inside shovel-packed graves of this blackened soiled land. my hands bleed tears of long dead children who scream from the caves of disparity as i clench my fist as yet another sunset falls far behind the hills of this cursed land. and my last scream escapes in a fury of cursing and fire like the hell hath conquered my soul from the inside. my tomb lay shattered upon soured soil. may it be sketched using only words of warning to all who live in fear of fallen angels, "this flesh lies not within peace of God."

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"I open the door, to an empty room, then I forget."