WhenYouKnowYourNotGoingToEatTheBrioche

They were the lesser people; the ones that you used in ways that history has said never to use another human being like under the Geneva Convention, the ones that were bellicose enough to deliciously carve a human infant with a kitchen butcher knife and decorate the nursery with the mother's womb and uterine fluids, amniotic paint vivid alive real, the ones that no one wanted as a neighbor because he'd hump the shit out of you and want more no matter how slutty he or she treated you or smeared manure on your GMC 450 horsepower windshield or broke it with a brick, the ones that the wonton wanted in their beds at the masseuse public and with others just the like doing their nails, waxing their bodies in hot candlewax and feeding them hand molded almond sweets; their cars, their jobs, their education, their entertainment, they were the ones that you could drop and pick up for a quickie, there were the lesser people because they were supposed to die fast early and depending on the deed did; it could be somnolently in their sleep, garrulously in a parking lot then hit by a speeding Turquoise pick-up truck, ...

Exodus drove them out from Egypt under a blaring Rameses, a tyrannical Pharoah, before then they were driven out by the Tower of Babylon, before then they were driven out by the Archangels, then some would say there was no one; however, driven out of lands were many: Hebrews, Visigoths, Franks, Druids, Celtics, Huns, Mongols, Sikhs, inhabitants of Samarkand, the citizens of the Reich, the followers of the Leviathans, Lilith,... the Pez. These were everywhere still hidden in corners of the antediluvian world; their power treasured and secured in thick glass, air tight preservation, pH controlled, laser activated security systems and motion alarms. The power of Solomon's Library of Alexandria or of his mines which of you would have dared to trek into the catacombs under Rome to enter the Vatican Library. Forgotten, never, down trodden, perhaps, beaten, no, these have been and then more; the fleeing shackled rage, the desperately reaching hungry crave, the wandering poverty masses roam, the crippling ill falter in step; within their own motions their orbit solidified their fates and only time is what these sought.

Cosmic forces are always at work, gravity functions: whether your weight mass changes from Jupiter to Venus, the meteors held within orbit or the planets with the System, the gist of the Milky Way has it's own pulls and regulations to maintain everything as it should be and yet someone always wants the apple to fall up the tree. Life is like PI-e, no matter how many times you make the meringue it'll never be the same as the first magical moment when you realized you wanted that again, the inevitable truth that not everything can be repeated.

Then there was the demonic force, an evil so passive and apathic to humanity and to everyone, a selfish narcissistic bitch that could neither decide to be man or woman but most indefinitely abhorred children and with God worse. The near worship or slight light of true goodness or truth or holiness and there was no stopping the utmost gnashing of teeth, gnawing of nails, the scratching of toes against the flesh, the curvature of a twisted gnarled body against it's natural creation, it's Godly inspiration and for this the darkness that dwelled permeated it in such a way that it's grotesqueness showed hairless, pimpled pussed scalp, huge long bumped nose, bulged eyes that pitted into the face so deeply that the hollows impressed upon the viewer untimely death, the chafed mouth and slitted teeth cracked crooked, the dolorous curved bones and scrunched hands pointed knees, the body folded over and crouched hunched and lurched forward in movement like a deformed bald troll. In speech when not silent: varied from low tones of seduction depending on what was the lure and vitriolic rage towards the end the gurgling or coughing bark was unlike humans or the animal kingdom. But worse than this was their hunger for innocence in a perfectly Godless insanity; their urgence to leave the presence of God secured their damnation. Worst than injury to children neither Heaven knew worse and Hell did.

Sulfur ash soot and the scorching heat of an eternal infernal suffering and torment: Gehenna.

Vomitting is a prelude to the gut wretching befoulment of the last shred of sanity, the swelling stench of rot, like an infected welt of gangrene, the following capitulo is sagging underbelly, the men have swollen mammary glands like women, the sexual organs are unidentifiable, and the legs are like mashed over ripened bananas, the arms flap like the fat of a walrus running on the beach. And the backside is gnashed with hollowed buttocks.

Unbelievable abyss of desperation, the harrowing of the soul being emptied and pulled from Godliness, the unabated loneliness, the unanswered call for help, the infinite darkness with no direction and the possibility without hope but hopelessness with the delusion that it might be possible to attain that single chance again to be saved yet thrown, again and again... it's undeniable: no good is no good, absolute void of any goodness, of God is unredeemable. Tantalus and Atlas are comparable, never satiated but continually tempted and the other forced labor.

The oblivion of the null void is a collapsed star, humans are star dust is what is known and yet when in the loss of everything the ultimate end is a collapsed star within the person, a black hole forming in the chest and swallowing up anything anyone to fill a bottomless vacuum. Nestling dolls of emptiness, then sadness, then desolation, rage, lust, apathy...

Moor, haven of the craggy cliffs

no, cry just the shriek

fog

That Gehenna should ever enter the known world was what should never be possible. It's creation far from the known universe, breeching through time space sanctuary to reach from the fathomless fathoms of perdition; impossible. This was what the horde wanted, to unleash a chaotic pandemonium, then quell in dilatory lies, to basque in the crudest of forbidden desires.

From worse to worst only the cheapen womb of a woman used repeatedly and from all aspects, where every orifice is used to the point that it is torn, swollen, bleeding and yet she wails that she wants more and devours even Priest after Priest searching out for children to clean herself as if a pure white linen cloth would hide the wickness of her intent and aide in her pursuit to covertly live out of Gehenna. But her legs give her situation clarity, she's like the Boa Constrictor, swallowing up vast destinies and slithering herself from place to place swollen and gluttonous. The tail long and the evil within razor sharp and poignant, curving over the hips like dragons and between the shoulders over the head and with protrusions on the forehead, bridge of nose, nose, the upper lip and then looping into the mouth. Her lasciviousness gives way to self-loathness and slovenliness which extends itself like a web. Slovenliness say?

Dangling spider lay in wait

Slovenliness

Intricately I've designed

intricately I've made a meal

of the horn of plenty and yet

I remained starved.

This little morsel for me, that little morsel for...

Tarry did no

How slovenly

I've been

The devil knows of rhythm?

Of course. I'm still an angel. Did not David write Pslams? I can as well and yet I am the lesser for it 'cause I do and I don't and I would to get a hold of you. I am the One. The One for the kiss. The One beneath the tree. The One with sack of coins. The One.

Serpent.

And yet I serve Him. And yet I crave and loath to be a part of Him.

"Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?" Loaves of bread... (Bible, King James, Book Of John 21) "Yes Lord, You know that I love you."

I want to love Him. I fall.

"Simon, son of John, do you love me?" (Bible, King James, Book Of John 21) "Yes, Lord, you know that I love you."

And in despair I do not find Him.

"Do you love me?" (Bible, King James, Book Of John 21) "Lord, You know everything: You know that I love you."

I love.

"Feed my sheep." (Bible, King James, Book Of John 21)

I don't want to.

"When the disciples saw this; they were indignant and said, "Why this waste? It could have been sold for much, and the money given to the poor." (Holy Bible, Mt. 26: 8-9)

"Since Jesus knew this", he said to them, "Why do you make trouble for the woman? She has done a good thing for me."

[She has comforted Me, loved Me, with the fragranced oil from this alabaster jar that she poured over my head.]

"The poor you will always have with you; but you will not always have Me." (Holy Bible)