Fleshy Pin Cushion

I like the way your flesh caresses the pale old moon.

It’s like a sacrifice unfolding before the scene. Warm and red like the taste of a knife’s edge,

Black and blue, fleshly little pin cushion, running in the night’s beautiful, lustful hue.

Red Blues II

Here comes life, a gift of disappointment beyond measure.

Why won’t you meet The One true life, halfway in the black circle yonder?

The One of cold nocturnal embrace and secrets forever under?

Understand that a vortex of becoming is forever, timeless and primordial.

Red Blues

When life is, as always, a disappointment beyond measure.

Why won’t you meet The One true life, halfway in the circle?

The One of night and secrets forever idle?

Come embrace The Creation, The timeless and primordial. Forever untamed.

AHD II

Well then.

Did you Meet one halfway in the circle?

The One of night and secrets forever idle?

Or did you just fade in the path, where you asphyxiate and dangle?

Southern Heat Wind

Warm zephyr, lustful night – hardens in bound barks

Pale night caresses the southern breeze – cold and throbbing

I see thine longing for execution

O Mirror, Mirror on The Fall

Looking back at one’s past mumbling and rants, it becomes clear how much spiritual confusion and degeneration has taken place, instead of a fierce enlightenment. Trite, mediocre and anxiety driven, a spite on the true guidance path of the elders.

Khuran-barao, natas-sealb

Be cleansed shall one be of impurities – shattered glass, broken vision

Khuran-barao, natas-sealb

Aberr-rerakh Abra-Had-Dabra

Kadum-Dabra

Symphony

The sound of life trickling away is a most exquisite symphony. Not unlike the sweeping coldness of the Medieval chants or the masterpieces of the classical fugues. The chance to listen to such heavenly, organic tone is a beauty worth every risk taking.

Mourning is the forlorn poison of contemplation and weeping. None of such expressions are required, once one accepts the purity of chaos, whence confusion and bewilderment are rendered as meaningless as  a prayer before the storm.

Dice The Roll

Sitting in his smile, once, one remembers the warm laughter and lap of a mystery to behold.

Somewhere out there, a new mystery is silence in the brewing of the dark corners, where the rolls are diced and lives are counted.

Dirty

I dirty you so much when it’s love…..

Lick your night clean in the silky, sweaty toes

AVAUNT THEE!

The Stars grow dim in their places, and the Moon pales before me, as though a Veil were blown across its flame. Dog-faces demons approach the circumference of my sanctuary.

Strange lines appear carved on my door and walls, and the light from the Windows grows increasing dim.

A wind has risen. The Dark Waters stir.