The Convent

Inoxorable as the time that surrendered us, so were those fat and blissful brains.
Full of claws as the walls that surrounded us, so were those shaky and faithful hands.

Like rats on cocaine.
Like luminiferous aether.
Like saints in delusion.

But I am the Black Sun.
I am destruction.

So, the old Convent Choir fed me with eyes and visceras.
Lies were told. Mud were gold.
Bibles I burned.

Gnothi Seauton.
And know your enemies...