Where the darkness is the black, where nought is something and dark is purer than light, there he is
Primordial end, barren forefather, perpetual chewing and insatiable devourer of worlds and galaxies, infinite sultan of demons
Forever bounding in outrageous emptiness he’s drowning in his own pulsating gloomy agony, in music and dance of his own madness
Giant absolute gods, eyeless, mute, grim and insane
Other Gods are slowly, clumsily and bizarre dancing beneath the extinct star's cemeteries
Out of the whirl of terrible visions, which they are webbed, they reach tentacles and threads of dark to the seamy side of worlds, plunge victims into mouths and consume them alive and crying
Omniscient, indifferent, solitary, nameless, thoughtless
He spreads like a throbbing black hole, which shed crimson miasmas, looks like swelling veins
One and indivisible with endless obsidian throne, his shapeless mas gobbles to muffled, deranged weird ruff and quiet monotone sobs of damned flutes in the mysterious paws
In pitch-dark boiling chaos, where other Gods awkwardly hobble
Without sense to vile roar and dissonant squeals, sultan of demons greedily gnawing putrid bones of immortals
Delighting by howling of victims, he forces the origin of universe to crack
Spreading the vomit of life to the tears of dying worlds
He is cynic, insane, vindictive and wouldn’t take anyone, who dare make the things he can doing only, befoul alchemy: create alive out of death
