We were born naked but for the halo that burns beneath our skin , like the cloak of eternity itself.We have surpassed all other creatures in this mortal world , with our beauty....savagery and power. We have eaten at the table of every war ; every conflict of word or weapon .
we draw our life as the moon draws yide , yet we are drawn to our own weaknesses like a moth 's to a living flame . We burnish our hearts with the cold gleam of ancient furies or melt them in an alembic of overpowering lust......and -consume these word's , as a flame digests the soul of haunting feelings that you thought you had buried in the back of your mind . The illusion is brittle to our own kind , deliriums ; self-imbued to escape the wieght of our own existance .
Now the final war is coming like a storm , the winds ringing with our laughter ; with our rage and with our mystical serenades .
Some words should have stayed interred forever . Some beasts should have never drawn first breath . Some voices should have eternity only in silence .
Against a fall of snow , a being beauteous and tall whistleings of death, and circles of faint music make this adored body swelling and trembling
like a specter .
rise .....
Black and scarlet gashes burst in the gleaming flesh . the true colors of life grow dark , shimmer and separate in the scaffolding around . Mutter and rise , and the furious tastes of these effects are charged with deadly whistleings and raucous music that the world far between us ; hurls up at our mother of beauty............
she retreats us , she rises up ....
o-ash white face
o-tousled hair
o-crystal arms
on this cannon i mean to destroy myself in a swirling of a tree's soft air .
