His Sweet Succulent Taste

The madness besieged his soul, taking control of his being.

Absent colors and figures engulfed into the abandoned pits of his mind. His perception of existence was lost. The Internal lunacy twisted and molded the red hulls that caged the flesh manipulators thoughts. Rerouting the roots of his conscience into knots and dams that blocked his sanity until it painfully flooded. Lost in the void of his hysteria that denied him passage. He was forever stuck in this state of unbalance. The dams began to over flood in his trembling rage. Forced into screams that scattered through the barricades cracks in the malevolent form of blood lust. Crippling the canvas of memories that dispersed away from his reality of time and space. Like a rivers tears being rippled away into the vastness of the oceans raging tides. They were still present but shriveled and ripped by the salt that dried his sanity into the husk he is now.

Disoriented memories that jigsawed his fragile pass were registered into the torn pages of the teachers book. Recorded every time when someone would feel or be attached to the presence of the all mighty flesh shepherd. Throughout the ages he would be seen in many forms. In amazement they would scholar their messiahs miracles into this doctrine. Each tale embracing the audience in the basking love that the overseer of flesh would bring you. Teaching them the nutrients of his normality that would be told and imbued to their minds. This was the children's education. They were deprived of his love and the teacher sought to bring them its sweet succulent taste. Clogging their minds in his fondling amity that would tease and taunt until the pillars of their mentality would fall into his embrace.

The children would gather around in amazement and gazed upon the structure of Wheatley's Bible. The cover of the books skin slept. The sacred flesh laid abused and accomplish to the hellish virus of the overseers miracles. Bursting with a miasmic presence the surface created auspicious tunnels that swayed in the flesh of the book, representing demonic veins.The corrupted veins tore accurate slices into the rotting cover. Creating an architectural body of symbols that represented every marveled victim that the monsters in his command have seized.

The creaking noise of the books crust would accompany their ears in putrid cracks as the teacher opened the cursed book. They would begin to read the memories of Doctor Wheatley..