rat-king with a tiara of tampons and of
syringes.
old
and filthy heroin, veins like tunnels of blood―
i see in dreams.
and! in the kingdom of filth below the
concrete
they reign with the regalia of sewage
and they prey on the foeti of flesh and
trash,
constantly pushing, pushing, pushing
all mankind to the edge
with
their disease and their filth.
always swaying as if in the wind
a mobile adorned with the bones and teeth
of our children.
the rat is a pendulum in an eternal oscillation
between
extinction and world dominance.
this is a world of rats with humans on top
of it as a sardonic embellishment or as a facade to the hostile, black void
around it.
indeed, when all comes about, shall not health be stolen from the pure
and the ruby crowns and spires confiscated from every prince and princess?
indeed, when all comes about, shall not health be stolen from the pure
and the ruby crowns and spires confiscated from every prince and princess?
shall not all imperial jewelry from all the lands of
the earth flush down the toilet like turds when everything closes itself? will not every rat ultimately smite every man with sickness before the curtain has closed on the stage
of the world to come... and shall not the satin bed of culture spoil with
Divine menarche before the last king dies his death through purgation?
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