A Fully Stabbed Face

There’s forces that allow me to create cracks among strings in the core of any
dimension.
Sentencing sites and events to be modified forever.
Forcing time to withdraw.
To retreat and shut down.
To fall back.
A presence traversing dimensions.
Paying my pledge through this fire.
Propelling matter and dust into the main door.
Cutting across hydrogen walls, where a godless absoluteness reaches its arms to
fill the vast.
A wrathful vortex pushes me towards fatality.
It’s almost like being born again.
The spiraling mouth serves as my very craft.
The darkest platform ever created in the vacuity.
Sight turns into visions of hate.
Approaching the tunnel.