here we lay, defeated and broken.

forces so far away from our grasp and control dance across
the skies before us. they bleed new colors, raise new faces, and make it clear
to us that this world is now something new, and something that is not ours.

oh, it drives me so mad... seeing the monsters made of my sisters,
why couldn't have it been me? i would have ripped this cruel world apart.
i would have torn up the pages so this story could be spared its written end.

burn down your towers, for they are cutaneous filth.
scoop out your eyes, for they are rotten and filled with hate.
tear out your heart, for it is threatened by your cancer of a mind.

this world's ruins would gaze on upward, as i shout, in my own voice:

"BEHOLD MY FORM OF BEAUTY AND SICKENED BENEVOLENCE."

let me feast upon these remains and envelope your poor waning souls
in my mercy. it's the least i could do, to pay this final gift forward.
and then, in the ensuing emptiness, i could so gleefully disappear
into this so-very-long night, knowing that this lunatic god's
nightmare would, if nothing else, be made to search elsewhere
for its victims, for its story of wanton despair.

this would be our new end, and in it, we could SMILE.

but as i rest, here and now, is it truly too late to do something?
this desire, this yearning, may it still have a home deep within?
oh, but it must be fed. feed it, and let me bridge the emptiness
surrounding this prison. if the elder witch cannot do it,
i will scream for her, and crush her brood from the inside.

i Hunger to embody this all-consuming mercy.
feed me well.

return