Harvest - Serpent Of Gnosis

My eyes are nothing

Nothing but empty slots that fixated over the churning suspended moon

Hesitation stalls over the defaced rim of the world

A growth of slant black shadows stumbled nearer

Against this frigid landscape they dwindle and diminish

My veins buried within the neck now stand akin tightened ropes

The stenciled men smile amongst the growing filth and obscurity

As a marching malignancy, harvesting a circus of scalped impurities

Breathless vessels now hang as shrouded monuments

Breathless vessels now hang as shrouded monuments

They admire their newfound creations as they are perched frozen atop their

compliant beasts