They're like fireflies in my fields, the rot and mildew under the coffins of my family. A legion of unclean demons formed against me, all growling, all with fangs and bullets for leggings. Islands of woe, mystery and one liked old movies, said they reminded her of a sad day in ancient Heaven, all the glass houses and gold cobblestone, how the faces all turn away.
They say Satan often masquerades as an angel of the light, I believe he is more female than male, he has imprisoned those who wish to be in chains, twats and their self-righteous pedantry. You are enslaved by evil, do not judge. People should want to inherit salvation; not chew my neck, sink your teeth into my head, create a tornado of drama because of your ruptured halo and daily dread of calling me, you changed, I never do. Like a bucket of spit, sincere hatred, often hating with all my soul, the hissing stems of my flowers, my beautiful murder orchids, I can make them grow on a cloud-burst before a rainshower, armed with supernatural knowledge, they're violent, suicidal, pleasure-less, entirely evil, one even evoked the name of our Lord, our God, He whose heart is perfect.