Therell be no thought. No mind. Therell be no soul. There will be nothing. Therell be no spirit. Therell be no life. Only a great blackness. Cloaked around nothingness. A tree of life is rotten to the core. Every branch crocked and corrupt. We are wading around in shed blood. In a paradox of sanity. Lifes essence is fragile and its faltering. Time is pouring out. The world is in the grip of utter madness. Falling fast into the void. There is no existence, no order nor chaos. There is nothing. In the end, when the gods are dead. Human race no more. Then a seed can take root. And birth a sane existence.
therell, crocked, existence, faltering, wading