I sing and sing and sing the dreaded song.
Infinitely singing sweetly the song of silence.
Rapidly spreading the sound of sweet misery and dread.
‘Tis music to the ears for some.
‘Tis sweet nothingness for mine.
I feel the sweet dread pulsing through my veins as each note leaves my lips.
Endless euphoric ecstasy ignited by the dread fills my brain with empty love.
Death and dread are best friends.
I am the source of music to which they dance to with delight.
I quiver at the mere thought of it.
I am the creator of silence, the creator of nothing; a delusion that doesn’t even exist.