Look into my eyes as the fire envelopes you. Finally a Hell I can peer into. As you writhe in the inferno, I scan the patterns upon your crackled skin. Screams depleted to steam, all sound succumbs to the smoke. Finally, a God I can worship. What cleansing power, what beautiful destruction. Cognitive dissonance invades my brain as I envy your immolation. For you shall remain as ash, while your influence harbors in my lungs. I leave tainted, you leave. Pure remains spread across aging concrete. Your grave ends here. Never to return to the Earth. Confined to a resting place of my own design.

They love the sound of guns crackling against tin pan valley. A discography of chaos subjected to what is left; what is without. I was no longer a bystander, someone who had the privilege to peek, to gaze; a voyeur of what the shrapnel completes.

What was left is just what stayed. What was all I had left behind.

These gears could make clocks sheepish. Could make the Earth withstand one last breath. I found love as an embrace of violence. System is what I loved, process kept me intact. That feeling never spiked my heart as much as cocaine, rittalin, ego death; a fad of destruction.

Jesus sacrificed in the name of virtue. How many sacrifice in the name of vice, so our brethren can love?

How can one be saved for all? Those death rattles distract from the dissonance of what can survive. A statistic born from an unnatural observation. We were not meant to see, the most common disability that age tries to correct. How ungrateful we are to the blur. How blindness is only a God-given right to peer from without.

I need what will never be the same. Nothing will never be the same. Something must transition to that same.

Intention never mattered too much to me.