Departed trail & Bitter trials.

I cough a lung of sea water and I roll over to my knees. Up my head tilts to the sea from where I had left the ocean and at a sight of water as an aquatic ceiling of uplifted waters. But in the middle of mad mayhem of darkened and true ancient lores; as well as in apox twisting potions and written backings of demonic graffiti that breathe continued life at my fall, I was stuck in confusion at what I was experiencing. 

Looking at the egreesus predimic I was in, I feared the ceiling of the ocean would fall on me and so I headed to a red light I saw as a lantern welcome to. I came to the entrances with fear and wonder at what was here. At the walls that were like twists of tail imprints marking the abyss walls like a creature had dug them out with its mere movement to reach as far as it can go. I touch my hand at it, here I feel the cold solid spirit of absent love from god; oh’ how helpless and hopeless it is at this first step down and below. Moving past this outline departure from God, I feel a pushing wind at my forward body, its torrent invisibility rests with a pleasure to my arrival.

Assertive lewdness, incessant glee marching to greet, and happy to see me walking past them as a tantalizing new victim. I press on in confusion and compulsion to keep moving forward to a place I can rest and make my place in this weird fiction of raptured guilt. Filth rain of cold glutinous behavior drops down as I walk into more of the widening miles from the above to the below of all things. Not flung into this Tartarus pit of primordial dark divinity, sirering an incagement of my own suffering cries in why I waste myself and why I keep forsaking myself, yet I walked more past this feeling I know others of pushed from and back to. Layered travels came to me arriving at choleric anger that bubbles screams to the surface of me, red and bloody I feel this and so I run.

Endless I know, what was I running to, I feel it in me; and each step did nothing. Either from intentions or knowing to some degree I tripped downwards and rolled forward to a solid structural division at my head. This great meeting was on a gate from past mistakes that I did without malice but what was before me was the intentional scores of sinful nature in me and outside. The wall opened at my hand when my willingness desire to pass it came, a threshold made itself and I moved in to my wishes. Layer around was this landscape of grieves and graveled burial of brothers, who denounced all things and welcomed the world. 

A flamed, guilty, and at last not my place to rest or talk with as I know they would try to pull me from the path obsessed walk. Crossing by rivers of submerses beings of criminals drowning with heavy body’s for their weighing evil placed on others. Past this and to then into treeing forest of people that twisted into horrific sights of greener or at least a type or attempt to play the part of some hellish contortion of eden in this pit. No fruit was born but they slowly oozed a sap of poisons leisure that made you mad with harm, only to yourself. Past this lushness of suffering, at the edge of this and the beginning to an abominable sandy hot bleached desert; the 7th change of scenery came a sight of burning perpetrators falling victim themselves in a bold and clear endeavor of punishment.

Made to be under this heat, made helpless, made victims, made to be everlastingly sought after by a force bigger than them, oh’ did it make them frustratedly weak. Next came vile odorous malbolge pits of ten. All deceitful beings in all matters and manners of various placements from kings, false practitioners, insighters, spreaders of wickedness of sin, and the forgers of lies. Lasts, in foul laminitied betrayal to homes, houses, and family; here was the traitors of all things that were given but were turned away. I see a large body of wintered water, it’s all frozen in place.

A ghostly wind that chilled me to the very core, like I had never known, comes up to me like a figure does in confusion as to why I am here. It bothers me but I keep walking and see a three headed statue or that’s what my brain first thinks of this mounting figure with its own clouds of basking white fringe clouds that keep the air cold. They looked like the clouds I had as my lasting image of the living I had left. Further I looked, in it I see a dark shadowy figure moving the clouds; wings, black and large which makes me fill with dread to think this was my resting place. A un-comedic allegory of Alighieri.

Coming to me the winter and the chilled bones that keep running at me like a ravaging and up front grip. I’m fighting my teeth that want to bite my cheeks and grin happily before devouring my devotion to God. Interfere with the light inside me with dark thoughts and a face long ago covered from hope. Now the voices in the shadow folds in and at my brain speaking to me as a child being pampered to do something it doesn’t want to. “What have you done to put yourself beside him?”

“I’ll say these words for you, these words that you haven’t pulled out from under your listless heart and made a ring in an honest voice in fear of life to the lifeless words that’ve been unspoken. Come out and be here. You want to speak it and put yourself on a stand with yourself taking only God as the audience. Cry incredible in a not so inconvenient breath that crawls out sorry that couldn’t get to him, that had trouble giving goodbyes to pride, that slipped answers to piper calls of the ocean, and prays that even in this place that He still hears you. Look at the pitch icy glass hanging on about like white daggers swaying about in the airy movement of this atmosphere and dread.”

“Beneath the treasure sea of bounty hidden sunken of collected rain and mystery. Creatures of alien nature not meant to hound the land but guard poseidon possessions of vast deep bottom sea bones, roaring underways of curving erupting volcano beds still grafting new lands to the earth and birthing existence in harsh waters. Near unending tides that have started nowhere but goes everywhere and touch great devised lands. You believe that you are wanted in the corrupted circles of sealing curses of crooked lives that lived in sedation tongues taking rushes of pleasures as their lies pass by like tablets of novocaine. They share serotonin succession on the oppression of sisters and brothers trying to serve, survive, and supply some surplus a life for sired children of onward sin.”

“9 circles sired in unlove, trails gone and made the easy court casting with no reprieve. We are sinners and here at the last ground of a self built damaged damnation. More than sick, more than numb, and what’s worse is that we’re comfortably complacent in corrupting shackles that’s chafing you and us. The bruises brushing to the rusted positions of entangled traps have no pain or discomfort because in this worse state of being; comfortable in sin. Self righteousness justifies our enjoyment of anything that’s on a approach to wicked standers in your heavenly eyes.”

“Lost, outcast by oneself in alpha coats of wolves, barring days stripped of you, made sacrifices and those sacrifices was the words left for us, and we reluctantly silent to thank “Him”. But if our stuttering words can knock down standing giants and all opponents; then our voices are enough, I have to respect the resolve in each throat. Shout it out, to drown out the world in our echoes; it once was, having us in the twisting turns of its static volume, but now It’s time for our voices to over take the hightent shouts of this counterfeit world. Cut these steal comforts, cut these lonely thrills that try to distract me from what’s godly love, and at last cut down the space separating me from Him. Upon your objectionable standing Heavenly distanced Father of grace, in Jesus Christ tormented debts of man’s sinning name, and brought onto us the Holy Spirit that forges an empowerment of words to make the turning shapes go from ill suppers to better spirits.”

“Like words and letters brought on to the whole world like graffiti walls in beautiful echoes of your voice on ourselves. Take out and off the yokes of opportune wickedness and oppression. Let us be weightless and lift high to you in close spirits to your hands. Praise attention to your small pieces of like bloomed flowers for yet fragrant fields of lavender beauty. Let carrying love be met with similar and grander love from families of blood, Christ, and the lord.”

“A season of hard and at times bitter work is upon meek shoulders. Let here be known the empowerment of strength in these days to persevere and endure healthily. If there be a higher plane or class of angels fit for healing, please be placed on this kind hearted child. Blessings and blessings more for us. Pain without enough love in this rough world is like nothing at all that can be comforted by my own shared hail of suffering.”

“Change the offers we made for shielded protection of stigmatizations, gave fatty gold and sweet scented aroma from animal flesh in offering flames; now I wish to change this offering. Take gold off the bowels of charity to offer my own life in service as it’s worth my weight in any formed prevalence of soul hustled diamonds or gold. Take off the flesh that was given into my domaine and easy to leave at your posses, so I leap into that fire myself; to make this flesh yours fully. Pessimistic posies sold to me haunted and danced in the altars at your monument. Fill my coir cuirass and its breast with your touch. Meet me in the fire and embrace me unburnt in your presence. Put work at my bowl and set me with a purpose filled duty that’s my own mission from God.”

Waiting for the answers, an opening to take fate, craft my dear Heavenly promise made real upon my flesh,  and to get out this pit. Though as I ready for a presentation of great grace, a great rubble clearance came to a statues throat at it bellows a word to my pry:

“Coming as they weren’t when finally shown what devils welcome have been bought upfront with midland and earthly coins of vile deeds. Showing themselves to me as monsters that pose as humans but have no heart to comprehend or learn what an account of love is. They are troubled with always hungering when they know nothing of fulfillment in purpose or duty. Skills for the hard or talented bastion thinking that their demons have been won, blinded by pragmatic insight or a type of instinct that lies like a beast does, and speak that they are strong against themselves as they are against me. I was never against you…… I was never building a wording existence in death outside living words of God.”

“I have charges of sinister ingredients of evil that you can compete with at the first drawn of ungodly heaven effects that took liberties of civil angel life’s, gone against a deity crown, and mocked a throne that others soon followed in speech and felt no peace. He protects the pithily or the forcible made week that walks around as wicks lighting themselves up; engulfed in their own flames, so how can I abuse or warm such a brutally britul thing. I seen the worse in the best that reflect in pained tear eyes that want to shut out and keep my “evil” at bay. Blood glisence a dancing marble ghost light like a diamond star on a red curtain. Spilled and pouring out finely from the victim’s staking more than the uncountable navigations of star points and neighboring cosmos. Drink, drink, and belly up the forming ways of derangement that it’s all good to have umpires of souls screaming at your heretic actions in “His” name.”

“Bandages over the damages, imbalances, invasive impractical gymnastics chalk in hands making your mind falsely right. God dyed by his love for you, meant to be alive to just be a lamb sacrifice on the world’s altar to atone for you and this, … this world! Dyed by the hands of those of his most loved creature. You are all imposing imposterious creatures of a continuous filth and counterfeit words that mock as well as snares at the truth, and compassion for church forgiveness is twisted with catholic payments out purgatory. Man makes hell, pain inside all the worlds children. Gods love is what makes me fall in despair and grieve over what is sought after so much out parental love. How can you know his love when it lives on the breathes you have not taken, meant to not dye in you blinking eyes, His love is only alive when you are alive to accept it…… look at me and my casted hell made to endure watching the failures come to me and remind me just more importantly that his love is always over looked by you people. A hole, a pit, a starving mouth breathing more life than your lungs can fit in your chest. This scares me that the only filling love is mine that is a lie you believe is filling,”

“But you know what love is since you lost her haven’t you?”