Caves of Entropy 《Bliss of the Word》

Follow your way, revel on it and, like an skeptic sun, illuminate it with the rays of your thinking anger, pragmatic dismay of your spirit.

There is some subtle rottenness in your flesh, and the flesh of your flesh. 

A rattling passing, accessible to the touch. Absolute moribund revealed to the sensations, the feelings, the pain of remembering how much alive you really are.

Pleasure in crying and crying in pleasure, that is the secret and all its substance, instance and stance. 

Acknowledge it here, so close, so not eternal, in the grasp of the caprices and can see her lying on the subterranean cot, bruised, green, broken dream, varnish of ancient existence, laughing mockingly at the rebelliousness of old, dead shelter where my love ferments.

Feminine inferno packaged for the end of Gods, beautiful profanity, great dissolution made of the remnants of the perfect nothing.