When you think it’s over,

or it cannot get worse,

boom!

truth reveals itself confirming what I knew from the start.


I’m not concerned about insectoids.

What horrifies me

is the extent of the void of his spirit.

It’s so inverted that it has ceased to exist.


To choose that

over me,

one’s compass needs to be not only deeply disoriented,

but immensely immersed in the shittiest shit.
Letting himself be poisoned,
wilfully,
by crap.

I feel sorry for him.
How deeply gone from The Source one must be
to prefer hell instead of heaven,
to mistake adoration for love,
adulation for connection.

He doesn’t know what he chooses,
he thinks he takes the best path,
and instead he gets entangled deeper into webs of the lowest levels,
he doesn’t accept anyone’s insight,
he thinks all people are a threat, or that they are envious,
and being right is more important than his own life.

He has chosen Hades.

Deeper, darker, blacker, denser, heavier,

than what the Mother once showed me.

The high street of the netherworld.

Where nothing lives or grows, light is sucked the second it enters.

Where the only things that move are mechanical soul-less creatures

who live devouring the light of others.


His, is an endless downward spiralling black hole

that takes, sucks, and dives in head first endlessly for eternity.

I feel all of it as it’s living intensely inside me,
I have to express it and put it out
if I don’t wanna let it consume me.

And even though I see this poor path of his,
I still hold it.
I see it.
I honour it.
My pain is nothing compared to his.