Sunday, January 1, 2012

The Antichrist Arrived at the End of the World

The Antichrist arrived to the end of the world – at least, he who was and is known affectionately as such. A reluctant soul – one seeking to appear like a thief in the night – arrived with gentle warning, unassuming.

The faithful trembled, fearing the worst, even though the Antichrist had plans of only hedonism, and not eschatological design. So anxious were the faithful, that all their prayers of salvation became requiems of self-destruction, the fuse – in their minds – lit by the pejoratively titled Ender of Days – Wormwood.

"I must protest this defamation of character," the Antichrist cried.

The room was now full of snakes, and he wondered if his moniker was as accurate as others claimed it was.

Some rallied to his cry for mercy, while others kept praying and fulfilling their own phantasms of self-abnegation masquerading as prophecy. Bifurcated – torn in twain – the Antichrist knew not what to do - who he could listen to; who he should listen to. Others who saw past the slander and slush urged the Antichrist to reconsider - would he not stay to watch the world end?

When the night ended, the Antichrist knew – this was not the end of the earth, but of his world and his detractors’.


"Scar, scar, can you feel my power?
One shot and the world gets smaller,
Shoot, shoot, shoot motherfucker."