It was the corruption of a man’s heart that had brought him into great confession. He has heard the heavens whisper greater words, words that exemplified the immortality of man during his final coming and the unspeakable terrors that divided the immaculate from the shameful. The heavens only stated that the outline that divided the two was blinding, the path consisted of baffling paths and arched passageways. Not one man could delineate the horrific enormities that rambled about it’s shadows. The Gods of time and space had kept a corrupt oracle, an enigma so foul and awe-inspiring to all mortal vision. The kingdom of a grey spectrum where the boundaries of sinfulness and gentility were equated. But the Gods of that spectrum only speak a tongue so utterly perplexing it almost seems impulsively horrendous. I cannot bear to speak their words for fear I might mar their bizarre new province and gall the grisy civilians. Fear is the only emotion you expose in that realm, you fear the people, you fear the aura, and mostly, you may fear yourself.
Wine-drinking devils and libidinous hellhounds all distribute the similar seemliness, a prosaic carnality, it is greed. Greed dismantles all ambition from their esoteric hearts and engulfs the essential probity from their genuine function, it is to announce reconciliation and incredulity. I assume a confession can be one thing, but madness could be another. Perhaps I had envisioned something I wasn’t supposed to. Twas an omen that had stolen my sinlessness or the fact that I had done something injuring that might have caused me to view things this way? What waits under my tomb is no business of yours, what waits under yours is what you should be perturbed of. We all await the breathing tomb, it is a place of affliction and ordeal consequences, a realm where the guardians of the dead speak the truth about how we all came to be and how we perished and soiled into the thin ground, the layer between the overworld and them; the society of the breathing tomb. The preparation of hellish red and the imminent fear that caution’s our thinking, the only colour that be a sign of contrition and impending terror.