Where the darkness is the black, where nought is something and dark is purer than light, there he is

Primordial end, barren forefather, perpetual chewing and insatiable devourer of worlds and galaxies, infinite sultan of demons

Forever bounding in outrageous emptiness he’s drowning in his own pulsating gloomy agony, in music and dance of his own madness

Giant absolute gods, eyeless, mute, grim and insane

Other Gods are slowly, clumsily and bizarre dancing beneath the extinct star's cemeteries

Out of the whirl of terrible visions, which they are webbed, they reach tentacles and threads of dark to the seamy side of worlds, plunge victims into mouths and consume them alive and crying

Omniscient, indifferent, solitary, nameless, thoughtless

He spreads like a throbbing black hole, which shed crimson miasmas, looks like swelling veins

One and indivisible with endless obsidian throne, his shapeless mas gobbles to muffled, deranged weird ruff and quiet monotone sobs of damned flutes in the mysterious paws

In pitch-dark boiling chaos, where other Gods awkwardly hobble

Without sense to vile roar and dissonant squeals, sultan of demons greedily gnawing putrid bones of immortals

Delighting by howling of victims, he forces the origin of universe to crack

Spreading the vomit of life to the tears of dying worlds

He is cynic, insane, vindictive and wouldn’t take anyone, who dare make the things he can doing only, befoul alchemy: create alive out of death