There he walks, on a moon, incarnated three-fold, three beauty queenly Kings, with breasts and naked, a rose petal penis under a pad called the Zavundular pad, with purple, gold and orange buttons to ejaculate coloured semen into beautiful woman. Rose flower nipples are on his Holy Chalice Breasts with Holy Chalice Breast Gloss. And on that moon he softly sings, lulling with his pointed tongue, “You’ll be an albino soon, you’ll have the eyes of Horus. Thank you for this beautiful experience.” He only talks in iambic, this God of words, of poetry, of space and time, this God with all the reverence to Pandora and her holy products, her gifts from her box, for she is his muse, his Arian source, his preconception. He is a schizophrenic.

He sees Ti and Do, in a black hole meditating, or in a sun reading memory or energy vibrations, seeing its past history, and they appear in a Yin and Yang dress, the female, and in an aqua blue Astral suit. They have auras, this duo, these Holy Twins of Rose Blood, mysterious beings, of gold, silver and bronze; they have afros, black for the female Ti, white for the male Do, and have white, gothic make up and avuncular and ovuncular eyeliner, and say to him “No, Ti has to die. No, Do has to die. No, they have to die.”
In all worlds of God Ti and Do exist, haunting, hovering, hating; loving, laughing, lost but not. O! And see his birth, in Nonia, where Ti and Do were cloning the race created by God in a far earlier universe; that sprung up again through twin binary pattern cellular evolution. They erected a black obelisk; turning the humans into supermen: beautiful, intelligent supermen in imitation of the blood of roses. The blood of roses is the birth and death of God, it is his life blood.

The Holy Blood is rose blood; the Holy Church is the rose; the Holy Wood is the rose petal and the Holy Spirit is the rose window sclera of God. O!
The Holy Products of Pandora are madness, witness Pandora as she came to God on the Maori Pa at Hahei, her gold flame hair bristling, answering, blowing, awake, blossoming, and her albino skin of a Chinese albino, a Chinalbino, haunting, and her tongue, pointed, singing, she has the eyes of Horus and tells him “You’ll be known as Michael Mathew. Thank you, for this beautiful experience. The first fold of immortality is golden eyes; the second fold is Roseum Thornycum, the red rose seen in the mind. You’ve seen it and you have two folds to your immortality. The third fold is the all seeing eye, the eye of Horus, wide open eyes like the Pope who cuts his eyes open with a knife over three dead Popes under the Vatican. That is the trinity, the Eye of Horus, the red rose, Roseum Thornycum, and golden eyes, the Golden Iris.”

See into his eye, at the Pa that was wide open when he witnessed the apparition of Pandora, Goddess, Arian, Aryan, The Supermodel of all the gifts of beauty: fame eyes, fame nose, fame lips, a catwalk smile, catwalk cheekbones and supermodel eyeliner and lipstick, rose petal lip gloss, orange petal teeth, an Omega top lip and an Alpha bottom lip, a rose belly button and golden eyes. See into his eye, see the thunderbolts of ancient Mycenae coming out of his pupil across his Iris, blue for Pandora, red for Zeus, purple for Hera, white for Thunderboltie and Orange for Heraclitus, God of Eye Chasm Reading, the Art of double vision in the mirror where you can meditate seeing into your third eye when your eyes are centred.

He saw the eye of Horus at the Pa in a dream and didn’t die, and whoever sees the eye of Horus dies. Look into the eye of a human and see your mortality. Look into the eye of God and become an immortal in death.

There is a God that hears the voice of those who are suicidal. Call upon the God of suicide in the summon of final fantasy, and he’ll tell you what you need to do to carry on.