Falling asleep...

My heart was lonesome wasteland
Carried by the shadow of the morn...
Robbed in ice and decadent blindness
Lost in the eye of the storm...
There were many of me... Stranded... Mudered... Diseased...
My lips were sere, dead... Forsaken in devouring image of thy kiss...
Surges of timeless vastness came into chapel around me
The angel whispered vain delusions, voice echoed avalanches
Falling bones... Destructive nightmares... Shattered religions...
This maladive manifestation of necrosadistic testament in the lands of doom...
The angel whispered...
There were many of them...
Winged, godly corpses, mirroring anguish and filth...
Faceless murderers, taught to fly, banished from the abyss where children pray to them and die...
I found the portion of the hidden knowledge
In the chapel in the eye of the storm, swallowing rivers of blood, forests of fears, sands of cruelty, swamps of tears...
Here I come when, searching for the rest, I plunge into reveries...
Dark tunnel that I have to travel through this absorbing stormwind eye
Escaping from those faceless human desires and lies...
As I dream a dormant graveyard in my slumber-bed
In the land where no sunshine flares above my head...
Yet, I remember thy love...
And come to our place, finding pleasure in fondling thy tendrous lines of amorous grandeur...
Thou art... True art...
My deliverance from all these pain apart...
Then my heart becomes passion
Alas, vanishing in the bleak September night...