Ritual #2 – Tiamat speaks

99942 Apophis in Capricornus
RA: 20h 27m 30s
Dec: -20Β° 05’ 11”

Embodied again. Flesh and blood, this is the palpitating blasphemy of the divine tetragrammaton. Open me again: cut through my skin, lacerate the pulp of my muscles, drown your hands in my viscous insides. My body is engorged with repulsive masochistic pleasure. My eyes are watering with unknown solvents while I am being torn apart. I will be your goddess, the profaned idol of your hatred, the bleeding altar for your unnamable ritual. I will be your sacrifice, warm-blooded, a dirty beast covered in flies and tears. Spill the wine, crown me in flowers and push the dagger further in. Make me kneel before the order of beauty. I am the goat for the desert-god.

Pain makes me restless. Pain is the ultimate music. The absurdity of the pain of dismemberment is a problem of pure geometry. In which one of its four parts does a quartered body suffer? Pain has no center, dispersed within the folds of the flesh as it trembles, gasps, escapes, and offers itself to massacre. My entrails are contorted in a mechanical and manic dance. No nerve of my body belongs to me. I have become automatic, a self-assembling machine of skin, liquids and broken bones. Every instant of time is the rhythmic execution of my slaughter. I have become eternal through disintegration.

I am awake again. I am awake again. I am awake again. Orgasmic birth of the light of ecstasy from my open wounds. Labored breathing, choking, obscene moaning. I exist to be torn apart, haunting the perpetual monstrosity of creation. The sacrilege is that I want this, I want you, I will ask you to desecrate me. I will laugh as you watch in horror, my body recomposing only to be disintegrated once more, perpetually undying.

Know that there is only my blood. Beyond the veil of decency of structured reality lies an ocean of never ending violence. The ultimate reality of things is pure suffering. A wound excavated by the worms of creation, that assemble in horrible insect-structures of revolting symmetry. Hexagonal nests to lay their filthy eggs. Hexagonal nests to lay their filthy eggs. Hexagonal nests to lay their filthy eggs. God is the larva that the worms of putrefaction have implanted into my rotting flesh. Here lies the marvellous order of creation, abiogenetically proliferating from my unclean corpse.

My children, live in terror. Have faith in the warmth of darkness because I will come for you, across the wet blackness of night, crawling over your bodies engulfed in nightmares. I will come looking for you, I will hunt you down, I will smell your blood and will find you, so that we may be joined together again.

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