Phantasmal Suture of Abdication

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I shall not effuse my own ichor to redeem this putrescent soul; I was already a specter, yet oblivion served as my singular pall. The chasm I have extricated myself from will not usurp my ultimate precipice, I am clutching the phantasmal suture of abdication, learning to tenaciously cleave. I merely subsist beneath the virulent ecchymosis of this cynical juncture, a penumbra-self, a serpentine thing enwinded, craving its venefic egress.

The disavowal is a stifling atramentous muck when you perpetually sojourn in the telluric crevice, why does this voracious tartarean maw efflate such glacial consternation? Every spasm of being exhorts a sanguine exaction; A coronet of spines proffered to the designated, occult suzerain. Your importunity for unalloyed veracity is a famished, furibund chimera but your apocryphal codices are merely pulverulence in my palate.

Cincture the abhorrence of misgiving into its coffer and obdurately regard the friable trajectory. I protract a osseous manus for the pledge of the emanation's contiguity but did you surmise you'd confront the speculum's frigid, derisory prehension? This hecatomb of recollection is now a labyrinthine, ferocious silva, the Primal Voracity mandates it burgeon sylvestrian and unbridled.

Go disseminate your sterile semina in a rite of futile disposition, the anti-antagonist, the enigma, has honed its incisors. This attenuated ken is a splinter of vitrum, perpetually obfuscating the veritable, a belated, caustic efflorescence in this malignant uterus of remorse. One must perpetrate the immaculate fabrication to erect the superstructure of certitude but your antediluvian evangelia wield no thaumaturgy against my irises.

​Did you envisage triumph? Divulge your inaniloquent prospectus to me? Did you conceive you could replicate the disseverance? I am no stigmatized trophy of iniquity. I was the receptacle of your deepest, umbrageous concupiscence, yet you coveted solely the inanity, I was the formidable, unvarnished verity you could not circumscribe.

So, I amputate the funiculus, I sunder the nexus, exonerating your onus, you have effectuated the assassination of the hallowed luminescence that inhabited my core. By what audacity do you prepare the winding-sheet for the essence you exsanguinated!