Brutal Saint Poem by brutal sickthermic saint

My soul be sparkling like ice crystals.
Sabath day, still black book in my hand.
Lay ma head on in and have a siesta,40 winks.
The supernatural powers of the holly ghost vocalised in my dreams.
Me and devil on a round table, sipping champane.
'apocolypse period! flash you!
Four angels of wrath of God with wrath ingredients,
cramble!
Revelation age will blow tall gates of hell'
i saw his eye lens red like a bubble of blood, sozzled.
Skin thick gaunt with deep wringles,
i looked inside him eyes.
'i will sent mother of harlots to sip all saint's blood.7 headed dragon to be worshipped, fear no God'
my eyes got out of my cheek bones,
agony pinching my butts 'till i stood up.
He was scared.
Sliva tripping out of his bucal and melting on table.
I was brutalising with words,
and alphabets from my holly fueled sentences.
He marathoned out.....
I opened my eyes with a fist locked and a smile.
BRUTAL SAINT