Diseased Intent


Welcome to the human race, victim, welcome to the benediction party.

End is near so shout your throat raw, this dirge will be your last.


So make it a pitiful one.

Chiseled bone drip drip drips.


Dull throb of aching flesh, wasting into nothingness.

It will never stop. A new dimension of cuts to anatomy better left unsaid.


Limb from limb.

Become a thing. So it's decreed. So it will be.


Crawl... crawl inside a new chamber of mutilation.

It laughs at your struggle with an execrable snicker and a gibbous sneer.


"You can stop when you love me."


The laughing echoes through the frozen halls that are ripping... chip, chip, chips you away as you slither.


- I wake to the touch of a morning sun,

  softly teasing my eyes apart.