scarecrow

The sun burns through the clouds black and frigid. All things aground beneath is besprent with viscid. It decays the skin of his, flesh oozing out like cum. His eyes weep for perdition, breath stinks of glum.

Bones begin to appear / the skin is aneling. The mind is a void, and the body, unfeeling. A behemothic whey turbine with ever-spinning blades Cannot shelter his bones from the sun's bleeding rays. The god above look at him with pure odium. The crows between the skies caw eulogium. The ground consumes the broken and the blackened. The phantoms bewildered as nothing ever happened. The sky is silent, betokening the age of nihil. When the time finally comes, when the Sybil - hums the sigil of Annyxtopheles, the agelessly vigil. Stars brighter than Rigil shall witness the new god.

This antediluvian world of the uncivil will not.

The neverending stagnancy of existence is now familiar as the world lays in wait eternally for the nothingness to eventually come and take it all.

So he lays in wait as well / all his limbs asprawl.

A black corvine sits on the left shoulder of his, quietly staring at the lips of his it gives him a kiss. Happy for he could at least provide the crow with flesh.

Unhappy, ...for the crow plunges to it's death.

The sun burns on, it burns on forevermore amidst the yon and the yore; amongst the existence and the nothingness, but it will be fordone.

For the sky shall now fuck the sun.