Angelo Vasquez

The Ritual Came To Me, by Angelo Vasquez

You saw the Behemoth on the horizon as insignificant. Turning your back on the seemingly weak as though an unworthy adversary will be your doom!
I was in the room with siblings I never met though they knew me, I had a body but this body wasn’t mine. They spoke of the dead being here and brought them with the vibrational ringing of cups and low whistles of red flutes. I brought mine by resting my head on the corner of the wall and letting my soul stand as this body slouches, with shoulders slumped forward and my lower jaw slack. I was able to see all around through everything perpetually as if all buildings were destroyed, this town was a flat desolate layer for souls to aimlessly drift. I began saying sounds not words we know but sounds we know by feeling them. Sounds of pain and suffering, screams of terror, until I was surrounded. Innately they came forming a circle focusing their astral currents into me, receiving this sacrament of them invigorated my being.
I seen that ritual has become obscene, always asking for something, always needing more. All is here …let it be.

Angelo Vasquez
CDC #G07505

Categories: Angelo Vasquez

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