Sun of the Demiurge

[novapsyche]

I.

Land breaking
under the sum
of patent fear,
catacombs cluttering
his wayward walk,
a reprimand upon
his unwarmed heart
and a swear on his breath:

the Angel of Mastemoth
treads his path.
Promulgating murk like mustard,
he plants his plasmatic
handmark
upon the milk-white purity
of the remnant,
ruby-black palmprint
smearing the holy swath
like mud
on albinic suede.

II.

The land cracks
beneath his burning feet;
it blisters with iniquity.

III.

The luciferous visage
blinds starbright disciples.
They bear the blight
of blasphemy, their eyesight
clinging
with rapacious lust
to the bulbous landscape.
The Angel of Mastemoth
leads them down
the broad and broken road,
their soles burnt from walking
such roughshod, reddened stone.