Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law?

(The whole of the flaw!)

A declaration with no beginning and no end, somehow looping on itself, you can hear echo ad infinitum, in the empty halls of man-made precepts. Slipping between the painfully felt concrete, and the abstract qualities of the Deathstream... Transfixed and made obsolete, as Eternity and Flesh finally clashes in my innards. As I, unprepared, am forced to suffer its unbearable evolution. The self' perishes in throes of upheaval, as the Soul blossoms amidst the ashes: the contortion in permanence, the I' so graphically despise. I' consume without remorse... Only to spew out new life, new angles, and new paths, produced from my rejection. And yet this utopic vision is partial and lacking, as most refuse to dislodge the vestiges of the old world. Like a soreness in the mouth, a malignance gnawing at the gums, like rust stuck in-between our teeth... Making the entire experienceexperiment all the more difficult to digest. Do what thou wilt might be the whole of the flaw if the Formula is to remain incomplete... The Soul blossoms admist the ashes elsewhere & elsewhen.