The Hex Of Man

Hollow days, transparent like walls, that contain the demons we hide inside. Seduction of the mind, mundane mechanical blight, fallacy of mankind, broken moores and printed writes. Spoken in forgotten tongue, of actions done, forbidden through time. We rise...words soft spoken, whispers, native, primal. Sweet honeyed curses, with broken lips and glossy eyes. Priests and fathers, dieties and daughters. Sacred soothsayers spill spoken verse, haunting, articulate, with a feeling of dread or worse. "Rise my children, open your blackened eyes. Drink of life, and never die" fables or sorcery drift in the wind, of beings, darkened and soft eyes glowing red. Hailed as creatures but known most as human.