It's a world of killing, teeth gnashing and snarling, chunks of cauterized flesh, everyone has a taste for it now, I said the night-time streets would run red with blood and now they are, black blood fills the boiling mouths, the alleys and wild horde of cats near the canal, cathedrals burnt, torched and scorched, Nittens, nails in the skull, the old white church on an atrocious hill of dirt, the flowery trees and slow-moving, silvering and softly-slick slime mold on a staunch and smartly stumped rotten storm-branch, the intricate orange and yellow maze and slit arteries wrapped in funeral gauze, the feint and frightened tendrils and lilac breeze that bashfully caresses the back of your neck like a lover.