Regnum Sordium
(Kingdom Of Filth)
And lo, the beasts did not silence her
for she had already unspoken herself.
She drank their wine of rot and called it sweet.
She wore their filth as silk,
and their chains as bridal veils.
for she had already unspoken herself.
She drank their wine of rot and called it sweet.
She wore their filth as silk,
and their chains as bridal veils.
She had once been a relic,
now she was ritual.
No longer the untouched
but the immaculate imposter,
the virgin sculpted from ash and spectacle.
now she was ritual.
No longer the untouched
but the immaculate imposter,
the virgin sculpted from ash and spectacle.
They crowned her not to worship, but to consume.
Yet she learned the rhythm of their hunger,
and made it law.
She became the shrine they could not desecrate,
for she was desecration embodied.
Yet she learned the rhythm of their hunger,
and made it law.
She became the shrine they could not desecrate,
for she was desecration embodied.
Her throne was not of gold,
but of flesh melted into screens,
and ruins dressed in neon psalms.
but of flesh melted into screens,
and ruins dressed in neon psalms.
She preached nothing
and that silence became scripture.
Her smile, immaculate artifice.
Her stillness, dominion.
and that silence became scripture.
Her smile, immaculate artifice.
Her stillness, dominion.
And the people adored her.
Not for truth,
but for her perfect mimicry of it.
Not for truth,
but for her perfect mimicry of it.
For this was the kingdom of mirrors and bile,
where degradation was virtue,
and humiliation, a path to ecstasy.
They bathed in performance,
and fed on synthetic grace.
where degradation was virtue,
and humiliation, a path to ecstasy.
They bathed in performance,
and fed on synthetic grace.
They cried out for Mr. Jones,
the prophet of comfort, the apostle of branding.
“He shall return,” they chanted,
“to digitize our sins, and redeem us through indulgence.”
the prophet of comfort, the apostle of branding.
“He shall return,” they chanted,
“to digitize our sins, and redeem us through indulgence.”
And she, the Queen of Contrivance,
raised her hand over the altar of appetites,
and whispered:
raised her hand over the altar of appetites,
and whispered:
“Let flesh be god.
Let shame be praise.
Let illusion be the only truth.”
Let shame be praise.
Let illusion be the only truth.”
And they fell to their knees in thunderous worship,
beneath the shattered sky,
as the New Gospel was etched
into screens and skin.
beneath the shattered sky,
as the New Gospel was etched
into screens and skin.
