my
attack withstands; my storms endure;
the
trebuchets hurl, the walls collapse ---
i
am a conqueror with the nimbus of smoke;
i
hold the staff that shoot panspermia into the burning galaxies;
my
breath is the burning mist and my weapon, Asura-forged...
welcome,
prince of rape and ruin...
day,
night, my siege unrelenting...
emotional
war of attrition against the way stronger enemy;
but
my hostile neutrality; my victimless terror;
my
kalasjnikovs shooting blanks like failed men
and
my bleak indifference towards the world
will
shiver my enemies with trepidation,
for
i am the sorrow of Dhumavati,
and
i wish to be to my own sensibilities, urges,
weaknesses
and temptations,
what
Kali is to Shiva;
consort;
lover; friend; advicer ---
but
never ever subordinate:
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