flesh made man

i would be struck mad and not notice for this is the liqueur of my passion
once begun the red river of my blood flows through me like satanic fear and flames erupt from the crypt of my desire
where i find love i find the very meat of my creation the flesh made man and sent to certain end where the making of creation was molded there were the two to be made apart and alike for their fevers would burn as bright but their hearts would never match and into that fire was tossed the accellerant of loves lost angels fallen to a unknown passion encompassed in desire of unending recreation
and man is sent to never end but only to repeat the unholy icons the totems of the power that only pleases the empty and fills the weak with pain and longing
where the creatures live love is a moment and pain is forever in hovels of stone and wood they collect their lives and hoard their shiny metals, unrepentant and alone in the congregation of the bodies and religions of the mind