About Me

May 7, 2010


And the godhead said,
"Unravel yourself from chastity.
Fuel your dirt.
Experience falsity.
For I spawned you from it."

The frail disciple.Taken aback,
Spake with humility,
"Thy absoluteness,completes my womb.
Thy blood gushes my veins down below.
The florid folds long thy touch.
I seek pleasure in you.
Fill me with your essence."

Banausic bedlam

We create household drones.
The man machine we've become.
We are clones in pretty dresses,
sheltered in cold chambers,
wiped off of our imagination.
Shades of triangles,
marked on our foreheads,
we are the by-products of greed.
We are the perpend of masochism.
The root pleasure,
we seek in oblivion.

Who are we?
Not humans no more.
Who cares?
Put on the mask.

The Green Page.

The ballad echoes down the street,
while the voices change their color by day fall.
If you turn the dimension,
you turn the wave.
Acquaint with tragedy,
as it becomes stagnant.
Rise with the downfall of the world,
spread chaos through the ears of trees.
Stand by the shadows of dusk.

The malice swarms the fertile land.

As fear delves the sunshine,
the circle of life breaks,
The race sleeps,
The ballad plays,
The world ceases.