Angelo Vasquez

WHEREFORE SEE I NOT APPROACH, by Angelo Vasquez

The decomposing reverberation of fading luminescence dies chromatically descending … steps of the most bleak promise of everlasting life… as the herd understands it demonstrating content in daftness. The life we observe will fade away to another, this veil, Maya, this lie, this arbitrary existence will expire. The flesh will fade away like ashes and all will be forgotten by the soul though the spirit will know, it is what moves forward into the next structure with impeding limitations. The progression will be a balanced duration of agony and joy… everything will be different though strikingly the same. This is to happen every octave of life, the rise of the black sun will be the humans doom, transformation, end result, rapture? Ragnarok, Armageddon, Apocalypse all the completely misunderstood occvlt archetypal processes of the “I”. We are the sluggering larva indulging in all things that give instant gratification, we the gorging glutten have earned our annihilation. We shall be dead though dreaming the fate of Tiamat… is the promise of everlasting lies. Now the love, mercy and grace are the talons that pierce our collective entirety. A protective cacoon shields our vulnerable stage of progression. There is nothing quite like the receiving undeserving mercy, it’s always a surprise to receive it because those who do would never give it, until then.
The prophecies gave the herd of servitude mass delusions of pseudo knowledge/worthiness. The distance of the grand mirage was the light at the end, and behold as you were all warned! The prophecies come justly inverted, ill with plagues! The few will sever the tides of sorrow and turn away to see the source of the quantum fluctuations. They will commit their first act of will, with deft trepidation where the black depth of dreadful presence emmits antagonizing rays. They come as endless wolveserpents their very essence is bane and blasphemous existence yet still…. they were given immense power.
The impending doombringers rapidly strike as bolts of lightning, the fangs and talons sink deeply through the core. Aggressively gnaw and devour the atomic structure of what is known to the edge of the damned… their dimension is riddled with black fire
The gut wrenching laments pale the ‘seen’ with its solemn tint and the embracing shades cover the unseen. I gradually become aware of the familiar sense of loss as I stare out my window. This loss is similar to that old scar only you see and only one other knows of it. Behind the slendor blade of glass lies a fallen white fowl still red from its wounds. The raven tears its insides out and devours her slowly. He pushes his talon down her face while he burrows in her womb. It will pause to look around then continue its murder, I couldn’t see him anymore …. I could only feel her cold loneliness being torn apart. The raven flew away, and I seen her more clearly than before. Not just now no no not just now, though ever! Always, and forevermore here and the morrow! She dies accordingly to offering and sorrow! It isn’t in vane though there’s still a ever deep carving sense of loss…
There was a time you glistened with wax over your decaying vessel,
hooks tearing your gnathic expression…the lines to different destinations pierce through nailing you down. You were beautiful in your in sacrifice, you were beautiful…
The living water falls and thunder calls for his children to come back home.
It surrounds the gorged fowl cleansing her of the ill malignance of my heart, the green forest underneath holds one dearly. Though you only came back to fly away I still love you. Even though I’m not enough in every sense of the word I’m still coming …you can never leave me if I’m always behind you…right behind you.
Through the fog your glowing vessel leads the way, and I’m grateful for your presence even if you’re unaware of mine…like those who die in a high mountain alone forever unknown and unthought of.
I seen it land on you, the social pressure of always being brand new, the things you say so others can like you, the anxiety of being seen…of being everything! It was unfair to be born, you didn’t stand a chance no matter how many I gave you…no matter how many I gave you to be you.
I saw it strike and pierce you, ripping your red threads apart to dismantle what you are now. You won’t be missed because you’re everywhere, you’re everyone and everything. You’re nothing rare or obscene, just another wasted chance. Cowardice isn’t welcomed, you fight with self preservation instead of destiny. Merely being! Behold the starving spirit and its guardian the discontent god.
I feel no remorse to say that the raven was me, all of you deserved it! It was karmic retribution and your decrepit destiny! In the times of Belial I can see the godlessness as an indifferent force that displays a type of seperation. The severance of Belial and Yahweh. Though by leaving he took a part of the vengeful one with him and by letting him go left the scar only he sees.
And in this I find the law stands for there is no seperation only distance.
Wherefore see I not approach…. the searing vibration of my entirety will
speak ‘DO NOT LET THE WAYS OF THE WORLD DISMAY YOUR HEART’.

Angelo Vasquez
CDC #G07505

Categories: Angelo Vasquez

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