Nekropsalms - The Desolate One

My father
Lord of silence,
Supreme god of desolation,
Though mankind reviles, yet aches to embrace.
Strengthen my purpose to save the world from a second ordeal of Jesus Christ
and his grubby, mundane creed.
Two thousand years have been enough.
Show man instead the raptures of thy kingdom.
Infuse in him the grandeur of melancholy, the divinity of loneliness, the purity of evil, the paradise of pain.
What perverted imagination had fed man the lie that hell festers in the bowels of the earth?
There is only one hell: the leaden monotony of human existence.
There is only one heaven: the ecstasy of my father's kingdom.
Nazarene charlatan, what can you offer humanity?
Since the hour you vomited forth from a gaping wound of a woman, you've done nothing but drown man's soaring desires
In a deluge of sanctimonious morality.

We were both created in man's image.
But while you were born of an impotent god, I was conceived of a jackal.
Born of satan, the desolate one. The nail.
Your pain on the cross was but a splinter compared to the agony of my father, cast out from heaven, the fallen angel, banished, reviled.
I will drive deeper the thorns into your rancid carcass, you profaner of vices. Cursed Nazarene.