This totem of misery so familiar like my mother's womb
And this, disgusting mind I know is my solemn tomb
This withered hand, I know it is my only friend
Grasping, groping, and clawing at me until the end
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Si Homo Esset Deus...
I just stood and watched as they uncovered a thousand graves
As they burned a thousand withered corpses with no names
I just stood and watched as they fell to the ground foaming at their mouths
As they were consumed in the bleakness of their own wandering doubts
The mortician, with one finger up his nose and the other on the trigger of his gun
Said to me: "Let's go down a little ways south, just you and me, and have some fun"
I just stood there as burned down a thousand churches and made love on the ashes
The noise they made, that unholy rhythm pulsating in tandem with their filthy auras
I just stood and watched as they rose from the ashes and began to swear
As they spoke the stars began to fall, led to earth by their unbridled fanfare
The mortician, with one hand on my shoulder and other holding his knife
Said to: "Why doesn't a pretty boy like you have a nice pretty wife?"
I just stood and watched as they crawled through the mud shouting obscenities
As they tried their hardest to keep a straight face as they laid ruin to cities
I just stood and watched as they spat in the face of the fallen and bruised
As they drooled over her body I knew the wolf was watching unamused
As they burned a thousand withered corpses with no names
I just stood and watched as they fell to the ground foaming at their mouths
As they were consumed in the bleakness of their own wandering doubts
The mortician, with one finger up his nose and the other on the trigger of his gun
Said to me: "Let's go down a little ways south, just you and me, and have some fun"
I just stood there as burned down a thousand churches and made love on the ashes
The noise they made, that unholy rhythm pulsating in tandem with their filthy auras
I just stood and watched as they rose from the ashes and began to swear
As they spoke the stars began to fall, led to earth by their unbridled fanfare
The mortician, with one hand on my shoulder and other holding his knife
Said to: "Why doesn't a pretty boy like you have a nice pretty wife?"
I just stood and watched as they crawled through the mud shouting obscenities
As they tried their hardest to keep a straight face as they laid ruin to cities
I just stood and watched as they spat in the face of the fallen and bruised
As they drooled over her body I knew the wolf was watching unamused
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Vapor
Ever hear the story of twelve brothers with a three-headed God? No? It's an ancient story, full of love, hate, tragedy, revenge, fear, slavery, oppression, liberation, freedom, sex, rape, incest, murder, genocide, beauty, lust, joy, and sacrifice. I like to the call it the Ethereal-Vapor-We-All-Choke-On.
Have you ever tried to live in the Empire of Unspoken Words? It's a hard place to sleep. If the air doesn't kill you, the cold and the fire will. There are no drums beating in the empty ash covered streets, no heartbeat to be found in those decaying and crumbling buildings where the young go to grow old. There are streaks of red and white all over that city, and no one there knows how to dream. Like a man with one-arm there is a hunger there cannot be sated, a fury that knows no end. But still, even there, there is the ever present Vapor.
It stings and clouds, numbs and sharpens, and it is always there. Many people want to deny it's existence, but it is there. The Vapor is always seeping into every corner and saturating ever facet of reality. Like a whisper in the dark, urging men to their senses, it is always there. The Door is never closed, one simply needs to open their eyes to see it.
Have you ever tried to live in the Empire of Unspoken Words? It's a hard place to sleep. If the air doesn't kill you, the cold and the fire will. There are no drums beating in the empty ash covered streets, no heartbeat to be found in those decaying and crumbling buildings where the young go to grow old. There are streaks of red and white all over that city, and no one there knows how to dream. Like a man with one-arm there is a hunger there cannot be sated, a fury that knows no end. But still, even there, there is the ever present Vapor.
It stings and clouds, numbs and sharpens, and it is always there. Many people want to deny it's existence, but it is there. The Vapor is always seeping into every corner and saturating ever facet of reality. Like a whisper in the dark, urging men to their senses, it is always there. The Door is never closed, one simply needs to open their eyes to see it.
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Shame
His face close to mine
His breath sends shivers down my spine
His eyes gaze into mine
His lips pressed against mine
His arms embrace me
His strength is beyond me
Bite the tongue that speaks lies!
Gouge out his deep dark eyes!
Break the heart that feels!
Make sure the wound never heals!
Her hand in mine
Her voice sends shivers down my spine
Her eyes gaze into mine
Her hand tightens around mine
Her hair is all around me
Her beauty is beyond me
Bite the tongue that speaks lies!
Gouge out her deep dark eyes!
Break the heart that feels!
Make sure the wound never heals!
My heart is bleeding
My soul is grieving
My mind is reeling
My hands aren't feeling
My breath isn't breathing
My shame is growing
Bite the tongue that speaks lies!
Gouge out my deep dark eyes!
Break the heart that feels!
Make sure the wound never heals!
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