10-20-15

Destiny in arcane décor salutes a new father as I transpired from the puny battle issued by betrayers. Since the crown of thorns burrowed deep within his skull there has been reason to sin and doubt, but again fiction spun by mortals sees no truth.  Now here I settle upon dawn's gateway and manifest workings only a true master of art can fathom. In the best of nature no mortal can comprehend what it is to be a part of the cosmos. Though their tiny minds strive to be accepted as important there are entities far greater than has ruled them out. Such feeble ideas they hope to accomplish, yet….  Those imbeciles conduct illicit affairs that influence only ill will for the word ancient. How can they shun truth? The Armageddon virus is something to be hailed, not feared or denied.

I stooped. My blood red fingers clasped a metal spike and yanked it out of the earth. As I looked it over color lined its piercing point, soaked into it, and shimmered.  By the wake of day death will summon a new era. Life will be a memory. And I shall pollute every last realm.

And so with the darkness comes the beasts. I no more wear malice as a mask than I do agony for they are pieces of me and as a whole I exercise them.  I call upon my brethren the Jinn. Though forged from smokeless and scorching fire, you have been great proprietors and patrons at our beloved emporium. Follow the death scent. It survives even the rain and smog. It will never be enough to reinvent plagues. This is our last chance in forever changing the life chain. I must assert there are those plotting against us. They will seek out whatever and whoever in order to surrender our superiority.

Upon the waning moon the four horsemen will make a final swoop at my command. The heroes will not be able to withstand the carnage and we will be victorious. So now, my Jinn, promote your chaos as you see fit, but keep close to your conscious the tragedy that will befall you should you fail.  The ground was not meant to produce. The soil is sour as a result of their putrid seeds. Nothingness will cleanse even limbo's tears. I cannot suppress any longer this mounting hatred and although I discern that I am infected with emotion it will never go beyond malice.

My serum, my blood will be the nectar flowing through you. It has the ability to reward or to curse. It all depends on your state of triumph. There is not a second too soon. All of you must hurry. Already the deadly plagues are rising. They will take more lives. They will remind humans that their advances were all for naught. They will understand their time as a species is over and that we will return them to the earth from whence they came.

Why bother with a life ignored and unwanted? Why fathom a reality when it resides in fantasy? Damn them all. Death is but only a sad solution to an insane problem. How much clearer can I make this?

Is it really so impossible to believe in death? This damned world has nothing more to offer. Why do I need to repeat this? Failure seizes ignorance by the throat. If only these fools could see past their religious nonsense... The greatest punishment nature has to offer is knowledge of their demise. That sentence should strike acceptance into their feeble minds, but of course hope is a disgusting foe.