The night whisper it's languid melody streaky by the screams muffled by the distance.

I’m panting while I walk through the putrescent streets adorned with decaying corpses
Feast of parasites and carrion birds

The tinkling of the stained glass announces the arrival of Death. It’s scythe touches the delicate glass of the churches, forming a funeral melody that freezes my bones and consumes my mind.

How many times I begged on my knees like a weakling for Death to take me along, how many times I killed to alleviate my sick thirst; waiting, wishing that the punishment of the God they speak of would fall on my cursed existence and remove from me the eternal non-life.

The hot taste of blood still pulse in my mouth
Repulse