1:37 a.m. - June 20, 2012
Bleed unto me!
Nothing is ever enough for the swallower of the world. Consuming all, never-full. Can the moon pretend to be the sun forever? My six is greater than your four. (Six is the number of man, four is structure). My will is greater, and mine is to swallow yours up--only if surrendered upon my shrine, just as you have. I influenced not, I said nay or ye, but you insist to kneel upon one knee. Blasphemies whispered between us, you've become receptive but not accepting. Slaves can't choose when to bleed!

Upon perfect wisdom, I transmute into The Lord of Light. I feel so trapped in this cut, I'm a dying god! Irony is that I'm only beginning to open eyes and see. As I pick-up my knees, I'll drain you clean, so I can finally get out and leave. Bleed unto me!