oh, faithful hatred. i'll never let your inner machinary grow rusty. i'll keep your blades keen as a monomolecular razor, slippery to an angel what dare try to dance on you. oh yes yes yes, my little aum. you are the clock-work skeleton on which this serial killer's gown hangs, the inner arches of my heart's cathedral. your fangs are it's steeple & your skittering legs are its pews. you are the brimstone in my gunpowder! the whirly-gig in my revolver. oh hatred, my altar to myself. sincerely- mordicai, mahdi.