I got angry one night…
a livingstonemusic.net/article


There are Merchants of Dread and they carry the disease of terror.
Their only aim is to infect and multiply their kind.
Why? For a reason they don't know...

These Whinging Peddlers beg you to take their pain so you may suffer it.
Invalid Fuckwits paint their landscapes over yours to blot out wisdom.
Infested Cockroaches want your confirmation of their Hell.
Brain-Pulp Maggots want a Saviour to conceal their gnarled, twisted, creeping Devil.

These Tormentors will not cease.
They will detain you.
They will breath foul on your face.
Smash their gibbering mouths with iron and ram spikes into them.
Rust their blood.
You will end the pain.
No longer will they excrete and ooze filth.
One diseased rat culled is one less diseased rat to piss on your belongings.

These Corpse Leeches secretly beg for your pain to show.
They want you to bleed for when you bleed, their blood rivers start to slow as you share their disease.
These Psychic Vampires fuel from your decrease, they suck on your essence.
These are the Merchants of Dread and they will give you a gift of self-loathing.

I wish nothing but death for you, unwanted, infected gruel slops.
You stillbirths of men, jump into your sewers and drown in them.
Your underworld will gladly swallow you whole and rot you with its bile.
Then pain will cease until the next incompatible bastard emerges from its slime.

These saddened, lifeless malfunctions feed on pity and unity.
Their strength comes from a diseased, coughing, weeping puss.
Together they are hardened scabs on the body of Man.
They are black blood glooping from a dying Man.

There are Merchants of Dread and there are Voyagers.
One spreads, riddles, bites and sucks, the other voyages alone.
One stays, the other goes. One fears, the other relishes.
One is an infected bladder of piss, the other insoluble brilliance.

Abort yourselves.
Don't struggle rather sink down as I rain blows upon you.
I'll war with you.
I'll smash your brain-pulp.
I'll pluck out your eyes,
and pleasure at your screaming,
and watch you drag others into the void with you.

You are the Sick and my head is full of death for you.
You are the Sick and my head is full of beautiful sadness for you.
You are the Sick and my head is full of vicious love for you.
You are the Sick and I am the Perplexed Voyager.

<livingstonemusic.net 2006>