Maleficent Condescension: Devoid of Compassion I

The Son is nothing,

      And G-d is but Abbadon's ghost, An astronaut floating lifeless through the vast contagion of oblivion left to breath on her own, Beyond doubt...He's been drifting amidst the shooting rummage, For stars are but the derelict bullets of space, Awry projectiles whose meaning escaped the gravity of salvageable capacity; For his meaningless conventions and illogically driven compulsions there is no excuse, Unto Him be all pathetic intolerable psalms be; Spoken in misunderstanding and disgust, For He rained no love but blood in worthless vengeance down upon us!

In lieu of His participation in,
An inexcusable existence!