Gan'Trac, the Voice of Abominations

Pygmy whales spew bile of such fierce vigor that the sloths sing of their bravado. The four-legged blind spider weaves the tapestry that brings lions to eat the fingers of deities. Hyenas talk backwards to the hat wearing man as the sky chokes on the syllables. He who devours the light of stars is pleased by this noise and sneezes upon his children. The its of the world weep to find he who rhymes amoungst the reason but the starving walrus gores him upon the hammer's edge. The mad yellow king pokes the bodies of the caterpillar and the maggot with wicked glee. Soon the jaws of the baffled will fly off to the red star in search of music. Us of all its know when the song of sloths reaches the reprise of brain dead sparrows. The mass of fluid writhes with anxiety when the sleeping penguin opens its empty sockets to a new dusk. It is us who finds the place of feasting and cake. It is us who tickles the spines of the beautiful horrors that sing the song of sloths. It is us who feasts on the minds of apes that chew on realities bones. It is us that make the unworthy swine wear formal attire. And it is US that will consume the blue circle at the dining room table.