The Hallowed Castration of Throne

Knives out - sixteen blades for each eye Passive conception of anguish Tempting moths drawn to ordained flame Absent mercy, only consequence Knives out - clean and dress Their glacé flesh Passive, systemic necropsy Tempting wrath nigh amaranthine Absent mercy, only consequence I've been thinking More and more - why was I born In the teeth of a strip-tiller? Constant churning Spitting up nothing but flak Erroneous animadversion Further extirpated in isolation If I could breach These warped coulters I would not plead for the axiomatic I would grasp For nothing less than the hilt The biting tan, the fissured gray, palms read Scraping raison d'être from culled derision Bless us None remain To bring assuagement None survive To reap remission Writhe A droning hum behind my eyes deepens Phoenix to ashes, ashes to granite As I bathe in fluorescence These fibrous veils do little more than Cast oblivion in a pale coral Probing nystagmus against blind Larvae begging for wings in kind Shattered knees and osseous caves Apostles culled, tarnishing grace Stepping stones sink into the coil A shattered brand: ouroboros Phoenix to ashes, ashes to torment Asserting dominance over my gasps Stunted claws and broken fangs Or so you'd think Knives out Left without a chance at transmigration To find a path devoid of woe I'll carve through You Knives out Knives out Knives out Bring me your faithful Knives out Knives out Knives out Bring me your justice Knives out Knives out Knives out Bring me your hallowed Knives out Knives out Knives out Knives out Knives out - sixteen blades to feed Active proliferation Repulse every last lament Dissecting a one-winged bird