in the minutes and hours and days that slowly dragged across our flesh during dry chillwind blown months we recall the burning sands of hellfire and disease left too many years ago for too few good reasons.. gods & demigods of consumption, whores of complete adaquacy & the stuff wildest dreams are made of, incinerating summernight air filled with wafting fumes of guilty sinners & architecture within the most extravangant means.. all lonely eyes becoming brightly lit coals fluctuating in heated breezes.. 'how long until bablyon will these trappings eventually cost us?'
turnpike distractions and the overwhelming volumes of junk email make for desperate times with frantic measure, this sense of incremental deterioration lasts and lasts lending shards of insight to the ever evolving mechanics of addiction.. shards that come quickfire and cutting deliver rapid information by means of incision or puncture. we hear no new voices and fear we are the last. sadness and a sense of lacked duty overshadows these times as they wrap so completely in such short rates that infection has rarely been made possible... no new believers to die for causes miserable and decadent.. no new saviors to gather the huddled masses, ushering all of them to persisting and voracious flames..
beneath lifeless gray skies this winter has fallen desperately in love and the times accompanying it bring perspectives much like those from the bottom of the pit.. scorched skin betrays everything and leads to assumptions of the places we have been and the things we have consumed.. abuse is the closer ally of these evil ones, during our watch we struggle to bear its mighty presence. better now then never we are told.. inbetween the reaches of day-to-day activity there is a deeper lust, a stirring hunger.. one unsatiated by the normals of excess.. cold and asleep for far far too long the beast spasms to wakefullness and makes ready to open the mouths of horror.. to devour until consumption begets famine, and famine brings the hideous ecstacy of nothingness, and nothingness folds into itself leaving no traces of a previous existance..
ahh, to be alive again, before the mockery of life became apparent, when all things were evil and beautiful and wonderful.. when drugs and lust were the only gods worth serving and the magic was sooo strong.. years later it is this eventfilled entropy that creates so much desire for continuing ruin.. like education, distractions play back as prime time catastrophies, defining our moments of pleasure & rest by exhausting the will to live. for the masses, slow death is delivered every morning as the elixer for complacency..
dear young ones, fear not the fire ahead of us.. it's storm surpasses your most erotic fantasies and it's power will take you away from here. our ashes will make young blood run & for once this time lovelies, we will all toast the devil in bed.. in unison.
