Oracle of Undoing

Gasp and sputter the acrid air, Hands which twist and pluck at spirit. Muscle and sinew, the feast of giants. The sum of our labors: a gilded platter. Invocation of material gods, Earthbound and ephemeral megaliths. The right hand: beasts imbued with vile cruelty, Sentinels hollowed and preserved by avarice. The left hand: the chattering teeth of power, Whispered promises which keep their favor. Be embraced by the smell of foul smoke.

The aching in our bones Ever-penetrating, betraying our wills. The whispering of honeyed words Chattering: "Work for work's sake." The ink blotting the page, Erasure of our being. The clouds of incense relentlessly curl, The sun will never return here. Stand intoxicated, stand bereft of breath, Stand witness to a world plunged into typhlosis. How sweet this smell? This poison? O, to believe in the goodness of power...

The deaths of our fathers, The defilement of our mothers. Vitality sucked dry so we may yet live. "O, how grateful you should feel That you have not shared their fate!" A time-old adage vomited into our gaping mouths. The dolmen stands proud: a gate of death; The solitary memorial we are allowed. Yet, this is not the sole source of memory; Olfactory keys unlock further gates. Remember, maintain clarity, The scent of old blood lingers.

Cruel beasts, chattering teeth, The blot of filth relentlessly twisting. The sun will never return here, Lest we seize it for ourselves. Centuries spent in blindness, The maggots grown within our minds, The lords of putrescence atop a throne of blood Will be baptized in scarlet blossoms. Burn away this vile stench. Drink deep of the ichor, Eat the viscera fruit of gods. Receive its blessing, Repurpose what was claimed. Hark! O, disquietened hounds of death! O, ye who would desecrate our mothers' graves! We pursue the seizure of our means of survival! We welcome the inversion of hitherto giants!

Stand revitalized, stand and breathe again, Stand witness to a world reformed by cleansing fire. How sweet this sound? This waking? O, to remove the hierarchy of power...