Matter as betrayai or matter, 
creation through parodies of creation. 
Each act in existence feeds it's own plagiarism 
(Black breath of Pleroma). 

No motion model behind the coelum-faced anima, 
but the pallid pattern of sterility. 
divine slough wraps heredity, a funeral shroud. 
What's the soul supposed to carry on? 
[bad word] cell, the last unknown factor of the shifting equation,
an invisible legacy of a stiffened fall. 
Igneous meat stuffed with the poison of meaning. 
We shall keep behind our eyes this pulsar of terror.

Crevices of a place that does not exist. 
Spinal corrections are dozens of traps. 
Here light turns to matter and fades. 
Treason stratified in illumination, 
skin lying under skins, flesh lying under flesh. 

veil of ceils bound in weakest chemistries, born from the prime and evil Gesture. 
Unfolding stratums of grievous mares, the first steps of the Germ creating the path to entropy.
I have seen the men behind the sun, their lungs constantly dialyzed by the black breath of Pleroma. 
Cause. Principle. Unity. 

What is the soul supposed to carry on? 
To sharpen the knife with clandestine meanings.
Each mutation of the divine worm begets a second of the deaf-mute trinity. 
There craw souls [bad word] the acclaim of cosmic dysentery.
What's the soul supposed to be? 

Mors duplex: altera quidem omnibus nota, 
ubi corpus solvitur a corpore, 
altera vero [bad word]  quum anima, 
solvitur a corpore, nec semper altera alteram sequitur.

I saw Her, she bears the flame, 
but no one could recognize her. 

Her hert beats but no blood flows, 
for she hides not to beneath an arterial disguise. 
She is the decaying limb, a disease to necessity, 
a crack in space and time from whence flow the stones and throbbing waters of [bad word]  
to fulfill the palimpsest of human parody.