Zy Nettesheim

I am woken up with dark information from the long dead, Like a prison of knowledge, Or a reverse funeral system.

I've seen this happen before, Clear as a new sun's light; A theater full of people suffocating, Coming on in magnetic static spirals.

You'll try once more, To hold my hand only to slit my wrist but, Remember: I was born under Nova conditions, In such pain that no one else survived in one piece.

He dispersed on grey dust that heaven swallowed, Sliding between light and, Shadow as easily as mind and, Soul.

General orders for emergency conditions:

In the case of a new King being received.

I remember,

When I was a god,

And like a god I died;

By the deep waters,

Crucified.

No power in any spell,

No comfort in any ritual,

No hope in any action.

"Let me know the misery totally.

And spare not and be not spared.

Sacrament and crucifixion.

Oh my passion and shame."

- Jack Parsons.

And if I fail herein,

May my pyramid be profaned,

And the Eye be closed upon me.

The algebra of need,

Economy of addiction,

General validity.