By Nephildevil
There was a man who wanted his wife to be pregnant. He wanted to make a clone of himself to enter life trough the vulva of his beloved aged bride. In that time in that far away future possible and yet in the same way impossible reality it was prepared to happen. His artificial alter self grew in her soft warm wet womb. He got scared, perhaps his clone-child would be better than who he was at that specific time. Fear of impotent power over his other child-self grew into hate. He killed.
It was suicide and yet it was not. The woman died as well. Grief struck for the loss of his wife and his child. He murdered his family, then he died again, emotionally.
Into a deep depression he sank.
Deep in the dark corridors of the gloomy hell
of unwanted woe. He commited suicide.
The Devil won.
And a painfull laughter was heard as the Gates of Hell opened to this world.
Here His Splendid Infernal Majesty Comes.
Apocalyptic Death.
Hell won.
And in the glimmer of starlight the Scythe was shown to All, including
the Devil.
Death reared It’s ugly head.
And I, I simply looked in my mirror.
I saw two I’s.
I saw myself reborn to the flesh of Earth.
And somewhere somebody died painfully.
It were my eyes, but when I looked in that mirror, I was covered in darkness
and the noises were silence.
Silence I heard and it lasted forever.
Terrible but beautifull was the Macabre Music of perfect paranoia followed
by total fear.
My mirror image looked back at me.
There is nothing worse.
But Both that is ME.
I like Myself.
My Divine Self.
Merged into One.
Awakened unto this ball of dirt.
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