I lay
decayed, flayed
amidst Satan's long gone glory;
deafened
by chants of orphaned, molested children;
I am surrounded by the farthest, bloodiest land
any man has ever stepped on
engulfed in unbearable, reeking evil
and The Fallen One's omnipotence.

The fallen winged warriors of Jesus Christ
fall head-first
into a sea of rot;
their innards melt and mix with the water,
a mixture of excrements, **** and *****-shat *****,
rotting.

Impious, impulsive;
ever farther away from God.

A minuscule spec of light
-a signal from the heavens-
falls and burns to death before your ever taciturn eyes,
a projection of your failure;
t'was the last showing of hope.
It is the end of the world.

Swarms of flaming, ***** wasps
object your soulless carcass to the most aggressive ******;
burning, ****** stingers.
Their grunting and moaning
is but mocking and berating,
you're a useless ******* husk.
Their continuous, brutal thrusts, however,
they invoke eternal drool and warm.
They invoke eternal pleasure.