As
ever i did not want to get out of bed. So
hard to face the daily failure that is my life.
Yet, in that warmth, a new and unexpected iteration. Always trying so hard to tear down the tenderness. All scattered. Returning back to the city. Looking for flaws, predictions of pain. I went out for ice cream once and would love
to do so again. No, what an idiotic
thing to say. Ice cream and winter coats. Beer and winter coats. Red beer and winter coats. These are all the things falling away from
me. Where was i? on the floor.
On the sheets. Dawn at the
window. So stupid. Not peace exactly. Vampires in the morning again. “…never used to go dancing…” now, I see, never taking the place, it makes
sense, that’s fine though. Not the
issue. There is no issue. Unexpected slide across the back. Need to stop counting days. Too many days full of nothing. Sickly flowers. Not mine.
Searching for something that is true.
Fuck. Trying to ask her to pray
for me. Puzzling. Venus and the devil. Venus and the devil. The devil guides our hands. Deep inside all alone, counting off the
days. Living for evil tenderness,
blocked off alone. Curtains drawn, no
one allowed. These are just
detours. No, these are part and
parcel. Obfuscating.
Days
fewer now. Stirring some type of correction. There in the corner. Everyone looks at you askance. Stop avoiding. There at the dawn, awful morning, Venus in
the morning, Venus in mourning. The illusion
of domesticity, the allure of intimacy, the illusion of intimacy, the desire
for intimacy, evil of the flesh, evil in the flesh, stop it, stop it, stop it,
stop it, love the great demon, angel with black wings, you have to pierce
through this, just want to sleep for 20 more minutes, fangs in the morning, fear
of the embrace, this is idiotic, someone said, just bone and meat like all the
rest, bundles of nerves screaming out for praise, no, please, deep inside this
now, daybreak with the door to the balcony cracked, don’t let me leave this said
the imagined me, the imagined me knowing it was an illusion, deny fantasy, even
in fantasy unable to properly foster a connection. Domination on the throne. There can never be virtue in power. What is
the nature of this power. Power from
underneath? Power from underneath. Power from the devil. And at that millennium all these words meant
different things. This is not a throne. We’re right here on the floor. Together.
But there is nothing good inside of me.
Nothing I can offer. The clarity
of water. Recording again. There is mysticism erupting around us. Transcending. I am only of flesh. You are weaving your mystic crown. From flesh is birthed your crown of domination. Eminent domain. There is no transcendence within me,
occasional mysticism without. Morning again. The magicians. That’s it, no disguises. One in front of the other. Let them be.
The smell of leather. Tired eyes. End of the night and tired eyes. You want a beer? What a lovely question. I ruin everything. Destroyer.
I could take it all back, erase it all, starting with myself.
Playful
now, since I cannot handle anything but.
Or maybe not so playful at all. Obsession. crown of temptation, throne of desire, queen
of temptation, can’t find anything, no, the instigator is not the proper
perspective, this is you sought out, we look for our temptation, only evil
underneath. I live in a black and white world. Fangs again.
The Cross hurts us because we are evil.
We run from it because it exposes us.
Foul disgusting things.
Still
striving for that levity. How can there
be levity in the midst of all this depravity?
King of nothing, king of emptiness, me.
Master of zero. Zero. The concept of zero. The essence of nothingness exemplified in me,
if only. Present during the night of
tears. In another lovely light, tears
turned to diamonds. Tears and I was
present and then I wasn’t. confessed sadness,
eclipsed. Sadness breathed out into the
night. Awful. Can’t find a single bit of truth
anywhere. No, it is here, the only truth
in evil as I am controlled by…there is only what’s awful. I should have contemplated suicide.
Now,
adoration again. touching the
earth. If only I could. Be. Never
before seen in that ultimate vision. Of longing. All for the best but touching the earth. Something Biblical if I could offer. So often, the delirious energy expelled. No, turned into something else. Out in the universe somewhere. Waves coming from the inside. No, still closer to the truth. Need to replenish. Bearing witness to the need to replenish. Ah, and all returning back to…so many years
ago, marked by a vowel. Recording. Water again.
it will all pass and then be born again.
complete dominance. Greedy and
generous. This appetite. So good.
Carnivore. Everything so primal. Primordial.
Shuttling through millions of years for arrival. No, still not quite it. What’s going on here. Close again, so very close. Perfume.
Booze. Always fleeing though in
the reality of things because it and the reciprocation are so grotesque. So what was I getting at? On the side.
Something never felt before. Why would
there be anything different now? You were
never wired for this. This was never
meant for you. The collapse will start
inside. Always a morning. The pettiness of myself. Courtesy before evil. Courtesy before evil. There is nothing real here. I am fueled by the act of destruction. It’s the only that makes sense to me. Who is the dreamer? Back to mysticism again. haunted and foul. I see the necessity to exterminate all the constructs.
Everything needs to collapse. Reverting back to the city, blurred lights,
the lights from the street, crossing, smiling.
Stolen too. Can’t believe.
The
appetite. Always so glorious. Sweet tired
us. Great mistake I never. Sweet tired eyes.
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