The Sons Of Seth

To be one of those
Who sway between depression and despair
For a life amongst their icons.
To be one who is chosen
A spectator in the theatre of their
Pathetic and pointless existence.
It kills me a little more
With every passing second…
…i sink into unfathomable tedium

I've been waiting for you for ages
You, who realise my splendour
And who know that eternity is insufficient
To celebrate our carnal union.

To be one of those
Who drift between suicide and anxiety
Unjustly suffering their rejection,
Only to be chosen
To ignite the theatre of their
Pathetic and pointless existence,
It heals me a little more
With every passing second…
…they sink into unfathomable hell.

For an age i have tortured
Those who do not recognise the excellence
And billions of humans
Won't be enough to contain my insanity