BOL ZBVB - lord; fly of flies
this sickness burns deep into my throat, signs the wind is coming to gnaw at my arms & jaw again.. her whispered moans lead me from shelter into storm, her cries promising of pleasure better than what we have, taunting us to forget our past, forsake everything to be within the demon's angry breath, to kill those we love, steal from those who depend on us.. to abandon everything that we once held close and dear.. the rewards are astonishing, endless in possibility and scope..
i feel her evil breath sucking at my own, my own struggles for breath become a personal adventure.. sequences of life best left to private moments and episodes of recollection.. she denys nothing, flinging sand at my flesh - course and cleansing abrasiveness - eyes turn to tears, mouths quiver in the eclectic lovemaking.. take a breath and see how the masses throw themselves to dirt, masturbating shamelessly beneath this hideous & erotic wind.. view the impressions dust leaves as her torments carve remarkable characters into our flesh.. these are notations of history, of disease and dispair. the momuments of ruin, they have become our cataclysmic artwork as testimony to the wasteland of achievements..
hell used to be such a beautiful place to be... it is suggestive of what a respected philosopher once said.. "with so many high priests, what happened to the low priests?"
71 days, 4 hours 17 min of distress (this.moment.71417)
beyond tears, in shallow graves and the dust of crimson sunsets we believe to the end.. so long has this process of love, sadness, death, re-fascination and love again turned that its sullen illusions fade into the truer etches of absolute truth. from beyond the howling mesas broken bones continue to rattle their battle cries thruout my windy nights, the demons who live in that wind tear at my teeth and tongue.. they call to me brightly and speak of beauty un-imagined, of horror undeniable..
in the graciousness of falling ashes her sickness brings strobes crushing across miles of our broken hearts, throats bound by nails serve as continuous reminders of our service and dedication. how glorious the essence of misery in its lasting effects, missed years down the road and hungered for in hours of boredom, glorified in story & tell...
for each reception gathered, the inner ones make every effort to latch on tight... sucking at the experiences trapped inside. mouths within mouths pierce scaly barbed teeth deep into loose flesh, our infection spreading like self replicating, destructive programs.. you touch this withering face with shaking hands; time runs out and leaves our flesh fighting to hold the sludge borne from 1 million years of hate & hunger, of desire and consumption.. human or inhuman, these shapes represent what means something thru your eyes.. your soul will see only what it chooses and our meaning lies constantly buried in your past..
one more chance to hell, the deception grows with each passing day... our web so intricate now as to entangle those i've worked with and loved for 365+ without intention.. the monsters breathing just below the surface wait for nightmare & solace.. death comes close - we feel it about the edges of these eyes.. its passing windows brings thru their murmering voices speaking to us of the fuck of death, the hunger that life begets..
i hear them clearly, and i will love all of you forever.
