Deep within the corridors of existence, hides a sleeping Beast Transmuting seemingly harmless fire, into sickly sadistic Blight. How can I control a thought which transpires from another? A cruel, unwanted procession. Wandering aimlessly, without ardor.
How is not the outward reality but a theatre of shadows? The entourage of subordinancy is feigned indifference When the blind are rewarded for averting their eyes, the impotent for chastity, A place amongst Heaven is a drop of piss, in an ocean of wine.
O self-looker, be enamored with the most adamant of courage You descend in the Land where nothing stands, but twists and curls. By my own will I shall grab Ariadne's thread and unweave it, Even to the utmost, sunless abysses should it lead me.
Do we truly see inside the tangling of the threads, or simply associate one end with another... Am I Mine, or am I a multitude of Others?
Come suffering, horror, ridicule and derision! I adore your righteous nails, plunging the soul like surgical blades Cutting a way through opulent, caressing fabrics In nakedness to leave, inviting and enigmatic.
Hungry eyes, burning glares upon my mirage of disgrace, Of a beast with many faces, banished into convenient obscurity
My Makers, I bow for you in arrogant gratitude As I tear down your entrails, quenchless parasites
I will never succumb into ignorant, finite pleasures of resignation, of fated condemnation! Give me instead a thousand eternal torments of Prometheus, the futile anticipation of Sisyphus, For I seek the Only Light, the guidance towards the Above.
As mind is flesh and flesh is earthly, the path towards ascension is like the diagonal course of an arrow, piercing through parchment, leaving its trace on it like the supreme reveals itself upon the mundane, cryptically and partially. Shrouded in mystery, grasped by intuition. Unproven, shunned and solitary.
Let me rejoice at this wondrous moment when your agony turns into sadistic laughter, For "madness", the renouncement of linearity is but a passage. No ambition is there in symphony, no fervor in static.
To be awakened from the sleep of servitude, one must self-induce the greatest of indignities, vilest of maladies, to be written-off from God’s little plan of semi-conscious cogwheels in the game of deathly transformation. Contra Natura, the beginning of freedom.
As my flesh is carved, bent and reshaped, I look and see through the particles of matter Space and time unravel in complexities immense, multifarious yet, still resisting to interpretation.
Oh Revelation supreme! Great Promise, Vision of splendor! You urge me to pursue you in depths of existence untrodden In cosmic impiety, in adversary with all of Being itself!Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
