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Portrait of Luca Pacioli (detail)

Obliteration Ritual – by leuchovius’ ghost

All existence here on this place is indeed a diabolical mockery:
A wedding of the impure and the degraded blood to
vile sheaths of weak and wicked flesh,
de-spirited junk enclosed in walking, crypt-like cavities.

These, who are dazzled and dazed to the putrid, purple sounds
of their own voices, volumes and volumes of vacant lies,
the fate of every one of these abominations:
We shall sink them one and all back into the cold, hard ground.

They, who are condemned by their own sick and venal commingling,
who are created only for the final and holy obliteration ritual.
Silence awaits them as a tomb with open arms,
Angels sing in the glorious heavens to purify this misbegotten, earthen ring.

For very far away, there is a hatred buried deep below the sparkling snow,
ancient relics forgotten in the infinite tundra, ancestral fields.
Yes, we disciples of the blue blood lay in wait,
Frozen beneath the years and sheets of arctic ice with silver blades aglow.

Sieg Heil !

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