Demon gods grow from the flesh of sacrificed goats as they walk backwards, neck craned upwards scowling at Earth’s colors. The light too much a glow. Their horns belted before death to stand proud and tall.
The air of hell will slip its dry tongue between each bump of your bowing spine allowing each ribbed vowel that rattles through your teeth to expose you, to be inhaled by the red eyes. You shall not forget why you were one of their chosen kind. Bow before your Master lest pay the penance brought forth.
You will hear the distant gallop of hooves reminding all young and slain they’ve not been taken, but delivered to their Lord. Here, we are holographic, just appearing in legends that domino from lip to wind. We live in the hearts of men who chose dark and are born to this death giving life. This is where life’s antagonists are immortal turning a simple crows egg into a mountainous demonic feast for all.
Fear is your only weakness here; a curse from another life.You should know they can’t kill you when you’re already dead, but they can make you wish for life again. Pain is forever pleasure. my friend, and remember bow to your Master! Bow forever to your Lord!