/x/ - Paranormal/Schizo

To those celebrating decay, why do you make festive the marrow of your elders? Why do you make laughter in setting out your ceremonial ornaments of moloch and carve gaping visages into gourds aflame slowly withering over the month as almost a symbol of the creators flayed image within you? But it is brushed off and unacknowledged by the eerily cheerful masses in their blasphemous garments climbing the steps to one’s doorframe like an unaware high priest blindly walking up the altar of an unfamiliar mediator and receiving the offered heifer for himself to gorge on, unaware of the foul means used to sanctify it. All they do is walk amok, doctrineless in foul garbs with thier hearts as the mixed fabric within. All while unknowingly observing the false savior’s profane birthing by means of a mass-satirical heathen festival.