Church Of The Damned, Chapter V The Feast of Fools

Will you be my Gothic Love, pale and radiant like twilight moon fire, glowing
like jack-o-lantern ghosts passing through cemeteries, silent noise? Oh, the
screaming of Life from your frozen corpse, yet you breathe softly and stare up
at me from your daemonic poise. You lie still and serene as a clear night's
starlight majesty, positioned eternally dressed in black vinyl, revealing the
most erotic and tantalizing portions of your flesh, just shy of uncovering the
fruits of Life's Magick Starburst!

I've always been so alone, only my morbid self and my nightmare dreams come
alive in you, my journal of damnation! The souls of the living may never read
these words, but I reach out in my desperate hopes to be found. I'll never find
you My Love, not in this life, nor world. I'll never see into the eyes of my
liberation. I'll never embrace your intoxicating flesh, like ancient newlyweds'
first encounter, freed from their parents' dungeons of chastity. I have fallen
into a sobering madness, lost in a world of the macabre, a dynamo of ultimate
pain and horrifying tortures. Here before me, I bare witness to the foulest
invention of humanity's barbarous legacy. Here Children of Bodem, is cruelty
beyond rational explanation, and a feast for the eyes of sadist dreams and
masochistic fantasies, intertwined with simpleminded mortals clinging to shreds
of personal normalcy. They are just as mad as all of us, in a world where
madness truly is sanity, as many have heard before. There is only one place the
finger can be pointed, to place the blame, once and for all! Behold, the
nightmare of the cross, where all are condemned to face the assembly line of
death and blood soaking massacres of all our dreams, while our flesh destroyed,
torn, chopped, and smashed bit by bit, bone by bone, ligaments carved with
silver dining utensils, cast in the fires of salvation. There be no salvation,
but eternal damnation and blood. There are far too many, just far too many to
feed and now we've all grown hungry in these final days of cryptic civilization.

The first ones fed in the shadows, leaving the corpses to rot. They grew
powerful, teaching others how to feed. Their following grew into great hordes,
and their cult power grew and grew, expanding as their organization slowly
infiltrated every government and every institute of human calling.

May I say to you, I am one of these leaders, a Master of Shadows and I am
either blessed or doomed to feed upon the LifeForce of human inspiration and
blood, flowing from your lucid veins. Oh, the body of My Love, so soft and
plastic, like wax on a wooden mannequin. I'll fill your corpse with my Master
Erection and my demon semen alien mitochondria. It will flow from your vaginal
region, like souls in The River Styx, lost for an eternal epoch. The Flesh, the
Beauty, the Orgasm, the Blood, the Youth, the Eternal Life shall come to you My
Love! I shall resurrect you, for I am the Master of The Undead, the inventor of
Necrophilia! I am the coldest, most heartless being, but I am the most loved,
for my power in the dreams of every human victim of Life's cruel sentence. It
gives us a taste of the power, the joy, the dripping, voluptuous, silky smooth
flesh, and when we finally get a sense of how to truly live, it's all taken
away by Life's inability to sustain itself eternally!

We are here children, as an experiment into Life's own dream of fulfilling its
fantasy of Immortality! Come my Chosen Ones! Come my Diamond and Ruby Princess
Crystal! Come my Acid Glowing Hippy Adena! Come my Deep Southern Creole
Barbara! Come my Desert and Black Spruce Forest Angel Patricia! Come my Vibrant
Peninsula Beauty Queen Katherine! Come my Super Super Star Musician Shaylin!
Come my Mighty Northern Indian Dream Leeann! Oh, my Brides of my Ghostly
Empire, will You be heard, by Your Master's Divine Will! There will be a great
and endless time of rejoice and a feastful banquet for the Brides and Minions
of The Lord of The Vampir!