Liminal Matter Corruption

Mater as a betrayal of matter, creation through parodies of creation. Each act in existence feeds its own plagiarism. (Black breath of pleroma). No motion model behind the coelum-faced anima, but the pallid pattern of sterility. A divine slough wraps heredity. A funeral shroud. What's the soul supposed to carry on? A corrupted cell, the last unknown factor of the shifting equation, an invisible legacy of a siffened 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. A veil of cells 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 dialized by the black breath of pleroma. Cause. Principle. Unity. What is the soul supposed to carry on? To souls to commit the acclaim of Cosmic dysentery. What is the soul supposed to be? Mors duplex: altera quidem omnibus nota, ubi corpus solvitur a corpore, altera vero philosophorum, quum anima, solvitur a corpore, nec semper altera alteram sequitur. I saw her, she bears the flame, but no one could recognize her. Her heart beats but no blood flows, for she hides not 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 enema. To fulfill the palimpsest of human parody