Missionary of Madness

[Kamikaze]

The journal was written overtop discarded newspapers, clumped together, in as close to a book-like form as possible.

Twilight of our Shadow's Awakening

Shadows cry in agony. We appear. We do not. A lie. Existence fleeting. We fed, we slumber, dream sweet. Skin soiled. Contamination. Voices cry out. Shadows cry out. Sleep in filth. Visit sky above, loud sky full of angels. Got close. Angels vengeful and attack one another. Guns and blades. We watch, slay the wicked, dance in the moonlight of gunpowder and flame. We see the light above the ganglands. We seek the treasures. Shadows cry out, filling us with sadness, with happiness. We cry out, only answered by angels of the filth. Missing ties. Need tie for work. Snow? Cold. Death. Frozen. Safety in filth.

Eve of the Sky Demon

Bald man in sewer spread his magic. We dressed him up and quartered him later. Still healing from encounter. Work still for wine lady. Must cleanse us before duties. Wine lady gets upset if we do not.

[Kamikaze]

Horizon of Dove

We sing, we sleep, we devour.

Shadows comfortable, safe, secure. Memories wane, weapons warm. Rats skittering. Mothers child cries above, echoes underneath. We hear, we wait. We feed. We end. More cries. Cries end. Fevered lust. New. Strange. Vision red from water of life. We cringe. We hide. Wait. Choir above. Sirens. Lights. Men on mission. Angels of vengeance. Guns. Questions. Mumbling. We wait. Protection at hand.

Wait long. Sirens wane. Lights dim. Shadow wanders. Aroma of underdark. Less of naked angels. We wonder. Vengeful spirit dead recent. Brought on by demons of virtue.

Idols search. None. Rats skitter. Rats chirp. Rats teeth. Tails and fur. Keep company. Pet. Feed. Lay with. We wait. Still echoes of above. More questions. Lights of flash. Footsteps. Shadows hide. We disappear. We listen. Angels of blue. Guns. Lights. Nothing. They curse. They question. They spin lies. They spin truths.

Past days. Past lives.

We wait. Rats chitter. Spook angels of vengeance. Angels depart above.

[Marks (DELETED 7896)]

It really runs deep...
Nothing is beyond understanding.