Heaven of Dog

Demon dog of Hell— Cerberus.
Demon dog of Heaven— Cerberus?
A distinct pattern etched with a shiny blades blaze. Fireflies, nothing is as it seems at all.
Heaven, heaven’s child— I hear them. My scizhorprenia reigned down on me!
Heaven’s blades warriors, I see them, feel them, fear them, respected them. I’m a Virginian virgin woman, a double lubricant. Like a double, two-sided coin, He called me “virgin whore, Virgin slut, virgin bitch is the Virgin slut!”
Their words are stifling, but are they trifling. God seems to think so. Who am I? Am I God? Rei Ayanami seems to think so. She and her Promethian vandalized, wreak havoc in my name. for I am Vestial... , isn’t it Satan? I was taught long ago when once I was a child that you exist only as an illusion~ the great Lord of Illusions, lord of the Flies. the Pig-hunt that wore me out and spat me out his mouth whist I was deliriously involved with the Prophet Muhammad. I eat pork, now, yet I am clean. Allah, seemed only to differentiate with me. I feel that I can Speak, into (Y)ou, this blinding Truth I call the Devil, my own placenta. yet I’m not supposed to, but you echoed to me that I am Prometheus and the Evangelion was my far-longed distant Fate. I wear Titanic clothes which are leather black and have a single braid of white down my backside. I lack a gender, though I am Death, hearing and seeing all those “signs” of Evil, rhyme and seize within my tiny paradise of Eden known as my human heart of animal and re-animalistic animations. I see without seeing; to me (D)eath can be as if only clear as Twilight. the Twilight moon. The once I’ve made and the infamous Stephanie Meyers novels of the Twilight forest. I see them all. That and Cerebrospinal, the hermit dog tell me his accomplice, Cerberus, are taking me to Hell to meet my future husband, Hades. I am the Devil, they utter without name, the Angel of Faith. Indeed, my name means “Moon”, a name of Greek origin. As my Aries birth sign stated, I am Destiny I am Fated. Fated to walk this world with Evanescence, drowning in opothical moonlight, a moonlight known as the Springtime, I and my Say-tar, Mary Magdalene pray for. All others tremble. I am meloncholy ‘Y blue star is a stone if the moon, a stone of Twilight. It merges with me and speaks. no one else hears you, except the departed spirit of David Bowie and Lionel Lewis. They are promiscuous and revolve around my dreams. I keep foreseeing them trying to “take” me in this occult mention and meaning of Apocalyptic proportions. I see the rain as they speak. They call me Princess Garnet of Alexandria from Final Fantasy IX. I bid they know my imagination can destroy and recreate the World of the modern Industrial Age into nothingness. I am the goddess of Ages, Father Time. I void the white moon. The Industrial Age is imprisoned there by my hands of imagining, a mind worth a thousand sheep. I create Alexander, Alexandria, Alexandria; Jerusalem, Mecca, and IsreaL into imaginary eidolon only to see that they come to life. God sends down his messenger. nothing’s wrong. It is my own creativeness wishing to keep forming bonds with Man within me. I am mute. I stay in “a woman’s place”, I am olde yet I feel as if I can reach for the sky and grow young. Pegasus avoids me. My dreams are but a memory away from my father’s Apacalypse. Why am I so stubborn? Why am I grown?