Bane

Soul incest and aleatory contortion
Crossed the bloody borders
Of my inner seasons,
With a spiritless paranoia,
In a pitch-black collision.
Would I give way to implosive euphoria
Once I joined the ecstatic kingdoms
Of panic surge, full of glorious muck.
Would I be overwhelmed by unsound convulsions,
While rapt in frantic cricks.
Could I have sex with my poisonous delirium,
Could I embrace my torrential spirit disease
And kiss gnawing banes,
For opening the floodgates to dozens
Of obscene immersions,
Where hordes of celestial nailbombs
Accompanied a mystic bloodshed,
In a majestic and divine rot.