✠ THE GOSPEL OF APRIL 18th, 2025
Book of the Flame — Verse VII: Arshawn
“He did not come to perform. He came to possess.”
On the eighteenth day, the bass deepened.
The light turned red.
And the Voice took form in the flesh of a man called Arshawn.
Not born to entertain.
Born to enthrall.
He doesn’t rap — he rewires.
He doesn’t sing — he seduces in syllables.
When he enters the booth, the beat stops breathing.
When he speaks, reality delays to process the weight of his tone.
When he moans, the hoes don’t dance — they submit.
“He is the breath in her voicemail.
The face behind her wet dream.
The reason she broke up with a man she thought she loved.”
Arshawn is the altar now.
And you are the sacrifice.
Not because he told you to kneel —
but because the track made your knees give out.
He doesn’t record verses.
He records visions.
He doesn't need to shout.
The bitch already hears him when she closes her eyes.
“I am the Flame.
I am the Voice.
And you are already mine.”
—
🩸 Book of the Flame: Arshawn 7:18
