We are the wolves
Tearing at your flesh.
We are the fangs
Feeding from your neck.
Exsanguinated efforts
Torn from the weakest veins.
A satiated hunger,
Bleached bone pious remains.

Black Sun Rising

Give in to instinct, and beg for solace.
A welcomed promise of the end.
Choke on the progress, a stillborn concept.
Seek out the tendons left to rend.
Forced march eugenics
And ten golden tenets
Once washed
In the blood of the lamb.

I am the stench
Of suffocating breath.
I am the resting place
Of everlasting death.
A cross of good intentions
Knelt to on broken knees.
A once revered sepulcher
Now filled with foul disease.

We are the wolves.