Fed Through The Teeth Machine

In a dark room, rows of text. Alien to the outside world. Fear of contact by steel will. Embarrassment revealed. Hunger for a sterile feast. My needs are scorned. By insect blood I am born. Twist of fate, dealt a hand of improbability. Reborn. Temple

I should thank you for what you've done. As the troll rears its ugly head. Read the warnings Before you say You will take an oath that will not break. Break All the years and devotion out of the window. My eyes are open but are we looking at the same

The Red Chord Tales Of Martyrs And Disappearing Acts Add another voice to the lie* The sole mission of a parasite is survival. Survival. Learned to beg for your life. The sole mission of a parasite is survival. Survival. I can't believe anything you

Try to draw blood from a festering wound. You'll see the only thing you can't admit. The gangrenous limb of your pride-soaked tongue. You are the paragon of denial. Living in a frame of outward-pointing frozen spears. Why don't you join everyone you