Tarotsmith Blog

The Oath

If only it was that easy, sending this personal invitation to Azreal scribbled in tainted blood and gold…
A holy oath made from the bottom of the heart to never come back or wear the skin of the walking dead…
We are a nation of corpses rudely interrupted by a book meant to save the shameful damned…

No one here sees the Sun anymore, not even sinners born again in the light of the sacred lamb…
How does it taste I wonder, eating the flesh of a man long turned to ash… Tell me… does it taste a lil’ bit like ham?
Morbid rituals of cannibalism wrapped in ribbons of deceitful self-righteousness… who could swallow such a sham?

I watched in silence as the follower of a dead Sheppard plot the fall of a ruined Empire…
Beady lil’ eyes filled with greed and gore, I would dig them out just to throw them into the fire…
As the vampire who wears a cross for protection writhes in dark slumber, the Prophets and I will dance to the tune of the Pied Piper.

The beast was here all along…