Some see within the pages
those filtered memories
that flood the mind
those dark concepts born
ever upon the breath and held
Exalted in the glimmer of its own reflection.
The dark ones
Those Lords of the neither fractions
that live and exist upon their own
Concepts, thoughts and will
to share the vast planes in between
The images we mortals hold and dream.
These legions of the damned
bear all upon the intoxicating ride
of the filth that festers upon us
drains our souls to the corrupted ride
And holds the gates of hell ajar.
here in the madness
where insanity holds fast its keys
the ancient quill of demonic hands
write the morrows turbulence
and screams upon the night
The death song of man.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph