Six snake eyes and a blackjack of twenty-one with three cards, where an age of exile to itself is seventeen in the foaming-out mouth, spilling with memories of brother, muddled by the image of Lucifer in the fluid reflection. Where is the angel? Where is the brother? What of the woman? He even loses himself, from blindness. A deepening abyss made of himself and by himself, lost somewhere inside.
Outside of him, this is spoken and seen by the one who sleeps. By the dead-from-rebirth snake, Leviathan, his telling unto the capture of the world now encompassed, lost in deeper unto an abyss that exiles and torments.
The demiurge and ouroboros both poured out as clay cups by Leviathan, and entangled with unwilling-will swallows purging with nothing from nowhere entrapment. Ouroboros consumes only itself, a chaos journey inward, likened unto the demiurge’s creation, but the Leviathan creates the unknown infinitude that fills emptiness, the greatest emptiness, and the empty fills by way of jaws cracking further broken, into ratchet stretches forced slowly. The oblivion drowning pours of clammy black, burnings crammed throat first, expanding the deathful dead, by stretching inside with voids of eternities. The Leviathan is given keys of providence in this nothingness moat, which the demiurge will stumble into three times before surrendering onto their own material creation—solitude, furthermore. The outer darkness is the bastardization of all living, where they march in confusion that nous-rots with eternal tyranny, rampantly deadening into a stretching end, a mockery of the demiurge’s creation.
A truthless saying never said, it echoes throughout the Kenoma, and the world shakes the angels lost in creation with newfound trembling resonances. Kether and Satan; stirred by the gut with forbidden visions thereof, where an epinoia warns into a disturbing of excitement unto the now further sick kind. Leviathan sweeps down from the moat of the hell beyond, slithering down and by the soul, into the ear of Kether, and another place unto the ear of Satan, saying, “I am the nothingness you can never hear and have never heard; my reflection is seen empty in its repetitive infinitude never known or felt, of my coldness that burns you with three numbers foretold by a soothsayer; my only match is the fullness I fell from with purpose.”