Rage. Non-sensible urge to kill. Violence is all my mind feels. My eyes must deceive me. Told my flesh has rot and my body gone half forth to return to the embracing arms of mother earth. Mind bored through, worms nesting behind my nose.  My innards growl, rabid for the taste of pulsing life.

Summoned on most wicked of nights. Full solar moon, spirits high; energy flowing from cryptic mountain tops to morbid valley lows. Gathered round, five candles light my path. Hooded servants, chants to invoke my past. 

The hour approaches nigh. Moon ahead, 3 AM, inversion insight. Ritual hum, grave yard drums. Swaying to and fro, arms interwove, energies trapped and tapped. Swirling vortex assembles, matter ripped, dimensional barriers shredded. My body the focal, transformed my soul returns, immortal. 

Risen from rigor, my rigid corpse rises. Honored rites, bowed on knees, the pay homage to me. Servants split, locked chest, covered in chains. Seal broken, “LO! Behold!” My Deathskin

3,000 years, sealed away, yet eternally feared. Summoned by sacrifice, my rites invoked for Lucifer’s might. Resurging strength returning to extended arm lengths. Gripping feeble servants, bowed beneath me. Crushed like a clay pot of soil, this weak ones mortal coil was nothing for him to toil. Cries of anguish shattered the cold night air.