Fore tolled in the tales of old, an endless passion spreads over the world. With the spines of death and hell reaching out to the farthest reaches of the world with its spines reaching like the nerve’s twisting and winding inside the human body. Sending and receiving the blood of the slaughtered and vanquished. Drinking from the poisoned waters and seas like it was fresh form the mountain streams. They stand up. Pulling and forcing the thousands of elements and creatures of this world together into their twisted bodies. Looking with eyes that pierce into the mind and souls of men and women alike. No one is safe and their corruption leeks onto the floor from their lips like the freshly melted tar boiling and billowing form the pots for the sealant for the roads faults created from the tears of heating and cooled stresses and strains of the millions of pounds ran over them like cattle. Still the steel holds firm and spills the produce of its time. Leaving the stench of rotting corpses and vinegar mixed with leather and blood in the air. Leaving the bodies hidden in the earth as the masters of the land place these roads only surface laid over the mass grave sites of their wars long before the peace. Finally the inhuman and beast like animals of their past are hidden deep in the tales of legend and myth. But their bodies are awakened over and over again after thousands of years of sleep. Letting the memories of the few arise in their own mind and the flavors of life once again grace their tongs, and lips. With the ever sweet blood trickling down the fingers and necks of their lovers skin. For the world is darker than when he left it. And the hells waiting for him are nothing compared to what he remembers that were considered heinous in his time are standard practice in the hidden and closed off rooms of the more civil breeds of his kind.
 morti_cacciatore · Fri Nov 23, 2007 @ 03:10am · 1 Comments |
