Touch of the Dead Saint

"Your essence grows deeply in grief day by day. It came about the feeling of great contempt, its pierced thorn within. I blacken in faint color of pure shadow, the color of 9. I grow more now....more than before. I feel the air Nefariously thundering within the feeling of darkness full of gratifying feeling...but...still I'm far from purity and its passion. I have been touched, it happened long ago in early years. As a child i felt its fingers tips of cold lust torturing me in my sleep!!....now i emancipate in a black rose burial. Softly touched by the dead faint saint..."