| Where the darkness is the black, where nought is something and dark is purer
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| than light, there he is
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| Primordial end, barren forefather, perpetual chewing and insatiable devourer of
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| worlds and galaxies, infinite sultan of demons
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| Forever bounding in outrageous emptiness he’s drowning in his own pulsating
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| gloomy agony, in music and dance of his own madness
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| Giant absolute gods, eyeless, mute, grim and insane
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| Other Gods are slowly, clumsily and bizarre dancing beneath the extinct star’s
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| cemeteries
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| Out of the whirl of terrible visions, which they are webbed, they reach
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| tentacles and threads of dark to the seamy side of worlds, plunge victims into
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| mouths and consume them alive and crying
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| Omniscient, indifferent, solitary, nameless, thoughtless
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| He spreads like a throbbing black hole, which shed crimson miasmas,
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| looks like swelling veins
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| One and indivisible with endless obsidian throne, his shapeless mas gobbles to
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| muffled, deranged weird ruff and quiet monotone sobs of damned flutes in the
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| mysterious paws
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| In pitch-dark boiling chaos, where other Gods awkwardly hobble
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| Without sense to vile roar and dissonant squeals, sultan of demons greedily
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| gnawing putrid bones of immortals
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| Delighting by howling of victims, he forces the origin of universe to crack
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| Spreading the vomit of life to the tears of dying worlds
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| He is cynic, insane, vindictive and wouldn’t take anyone, who dare make the
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| things he can doing only, befoul alchemy: create alive out of death |