Avert thy eyes those whom are innocent

Demons m’boy
They will drive men to madness, and the mad to the boudoirs of Loose women
And should an angel come’a’calling, to offer redemption
Slip her a fifty and tell her, I will be waiting for her in my bed at ten
The devil can wait til morning, for tonight I plan to have some sinful fun
The angel will not be returning to heaven when I’m done!

Avert your eyes sweet innocents, for this is where the damned reside
Angel wings for sale, next to the box of ruined reputation and fallen pride

Persona projected perceptions to blind the horde

Perception and reality are but tools to those that possess fractured psychologies

Those that shift tectonic plates of personality to make thier world what others wish to see

When the truth of a broken psyche lies at the unstable core on the dark side of a chasm deep scar

Where few will see the vulnerable honesty of a good person trapped by the ultimately corrupting flaw

To the World

Let us write a demon of creative code within the matrix of a pure mind, corrupting essence to fill nightmare visions with infernal fear

A letter string of choas and a sin filled flurry of words to curse thier soul with insinuated horrors that make mockeries of inherent flaws

As to the collection of bodies we call the human race we throw the world a star of inevitable destruction in rythmic, sacrificial burn

Sweet Whispers

What sweet whispers sucicidal intent doth tell
The truths of a tombstone in subtle tones
The velvet roped voice manipulating around a throat
For the thankfully damned a well known friend
As the blissfully numb find peace
The depressive finding calm in a graveyard
Staring at thier own fate, written in stone

A Recipe from Hell

To begin you will need pure crazy and a will to poison the nature of humanity, with a good sized oven and a spark of genesis to make the mix come alive

Now take the base recipe of sanity, happiness and fluffiness, adding a hint of demonic essence for a fiery taste to make it blaze bright, and reduce it to something more ruthless and cold to the touch

A pinch or two of angelic bliss to calm and sooth when the heat gets too toasty high, so to keep from burning the end result from within

Now mix in a definitive streak of unholy wrath to pepper the recipe with a fine wire edge of chaos, lessening the chances of any comprehension of normality by the masses standards, making it hotter than a day in hell temper wise to boot

Adding with a healthy stir, you now need to sprinkle in a refined spice of instability as an alternative to ward off predictability, without which the final product won’t be jack rabbit wired and likely to alienate as much as it’ll confuse

Make sure you pour in a whole cup of creative flavours for the artistic flaring, as without some imaginative perspective the mix will implode in self destructive fashion

Make sure to match this with a measure of random instinctive fizz, before settling it in a mould and placing it in the oven until lightly bronzed, a spark of genesis should be applied upon removing it from the heat

Top the final product with a glaze of socially acceptable normality, a fine layer of projected sanity to cover the crazy inside; making everyone blind to the monster you just created

Congratulations on making your first, and hopefully last, anti-social bar steward/artist/depressive, or most likely all in one!