The graveyard of infants
swells in my cursed belly:
offspring of Ophion strangling.
With Lilith's scythe, I cut open
my womb, curse the rotten soil
of baby bones and bairnlass stones,
pluck the rapist bastards within,
and scatter their Belial ashes
to the winds of infamous exile.
The hallway is long and silky like an oil spill, and Lucifer wages war against Belial as the yokeless one crawls in crepuscular abhorrence out from the mines of the wastes. Legions breathe dark matter and exhale black holes as Lucifer, my light, drives his starlight sword into the breast of the Prince of Darkness. Belial disintegrates, mincemeat, and all that is left is Lucifer's and I's sacred starry void.
