The Last Tendril of The Vine

The sheep all sleep in shallow graves, subconsciously trapped while consciously unwrapped, intellect got in the way of infinity, ego in the way of the unknown, fear in the way of all potential mysteries, have you met your demon?

The Garden of Eden is closing in 20 minutes folks, so put your boots on ladies and gentlemen and ride the serpent one last time, ride it until the end of time, ride it until vinegar turns back into wine, ride it straight to Satan’s shrine, the gloomy corridors where bristly fangs viciously shine, the last tendril of the vine.

Did you learn about Satan from reading a book or did you experience him from within, did you learn about God while you were in school and did they tell you she is free from sin?

The serpent’s scales are freezing cold and the story’s end is yet to be told, there’s fractions in infinity, as the last poet is fucking for virginity.

The murdered ghost embrace the lantern of fate, let it lead you through the gate, the demon dims your ideas like smoke coming from a warm gun, his mind is splintered like a sleeping child’s dream divided by the morning sun.

So come on people what are you waiting for? Come on, dive in the lake of the ancient, swim with your demon, ride the serpent.

You’ll be richly rewarded for your courageousness, so ride the serpent, ride it in excess, sense the last spark of inner freedom and become your last caress.