The hatred runs deep...deep into my veins...coursing through my flesh and bone. Boiling my blood and churning my flesh. There is no end, means or reasons for my internal hate. It is as much apart of me as the blistering sun is as part of the sky. It has resided in me since the birth of my existence. My life has flowed with the ebb of it lust for blood. Smouldering amongst a whirl wind of acrid smoke and anger. Inwards I direct it towards the damnation of my soul. Unleashing my eternal hell through the end of barrel. Leaving nothing behind but the legacy of my wrath.
The myth the sanity that I left behind is the stranger who shares the bed in my room. A bitter old baster who drags me down into the filth of his mind. Corrupting and twisting the visions of my work into the images that fester behind his skull. I try to pay it no heed but its' twisted ways contort the fate of my free will. Alone I am left with nothing. Together we possess the power to melt and corrupt the entire imperium.
The essence of this model was captured within the visage that came before my very eyes. Straight from the depths of purgatory itself. This is but the first step of many for the inner workings of my mind continue to grind away at the stone. Lacking an inner fortitude of chaos it sits in a limbo of its own making. Waiting and fester away at both our souls. My wrath begins to boil.