Your words are dead.
They live for seconds,
But the room kills them.
The hearing kills them.
Talk to me of God,
Of anarchy and politik,
But your words are dead.
My words are dead.
I do not know where I was when I awoke that night, in the humid, pitch black of the dank, crowded room; but I do know that I should not have been there. I could see nothing, nothing of the light that I could remember, could hear none of the sounds that should have come with morning, and I could not smell, nor taste, the fresh breeze in the air or the scent of the wildflowers wafting from the meadow which, by rights, should have been nearby. All I could see, hear, smell, taste… all of it was nothing, a blank.
I could touch though. I could touch the things around me – warm, decaying things they were, which at first felt like firm flesh but then
I have always enjoyed strolling through the forest in the evening, especially after I have had a hard and gruelling day, during which my relentless work has almost brought me to the brink, but one lonely afternoon, when I had nothing to do, brought my love for this particular forest to a peak.
My work had been completed for the week, and so I was allowed the afternoon off. I had taken lunch – just a sandwich, nothing special, and so I didn't even have food to prepare. My house is situated just on the fringe of the forest, a dense and beautiful oak wood, though here and there are dotted birches and sycamores. It is the oak that stands proudly
A multicoloured doom in this
Monochromatic world,
I saw, on the horizon.
It glittered and shimmered,
Colours flashed, argued, clashed
To our colour-blind eyes.
In this bland monochrome
There is nothing quite so beautiful
As Armageddon.
Why does valentines day have to be so pink?
It’s not a general celebration of love,
You know.
It’s the celebration of a dead man.
A saint.
A holy man.
I doubt that everything that happens
On valentines day
Is holy.
And then there’s pink.
Do you really think god likes pink?
There’s not much pink in the world.
And all that horrible mush that men come up with…
You’re not good at being romantic.
Stop it.
And please, girls, don’t giggle insanely when a good looking guy walks past,
Or moan and weep when you don’t get a date.
It’s the celebration of a dead guy, remember?
Of cou
The riders are not of this world – not in the normal sense, anyway. They stand apart from the rest of humankind, they and their great snakes whose eyes burn through all save the riders, entirely because of their unnatural understanding with one another. If you are born to be a rider, you are rarely the child of a rider. I pity the children of the riders more than any others in this world, because they run around after their parents’ steeds, unable to ride due to the poisoned malice those great serpents have towards any but their riders who dare to sit upon their back. I know only of one occasion in which the basilisks will take an
I am white, pure,
Wholly plain and innocent.
I lie, a sheet of paper,
Here, unused, and I am uncompleted.
My only purpose is to be used by you,
To feel the dark corruption of
Your ink running across my smooth,
Unsullied surface.
Hold me and I will crumple with your touch;
Any use you make of me
Will remove me from my innocence.
But then, what am I when I am innocent?
I am nothing, I am plain,
I hold no interest.
When you use me, I remember how my
Leaves used to quiver with the
Wind's adoring caress.
My only purpose is to be
Used by you.
The little things that seem so sweet
Are often dropped, and 'neath our feet
Are broken, shattered, unrepaired,
And we'll always weep, because we cared;
But even with the sweetest gift
There will grow a wider rift
Between the evil and the good,
And I'd be evil - if I could;
But for now I'll stick to none
For ambivalence is much more fun
When neither state is quite complete
And still is trampled, 'neath our feet.
Trash films and thrash music,
Turn around and
Spit
It
Out
Cos you know I'm better than you.
Hurl yourself against the wall,
But I'll break better,
And I'll burn faster,
And I'll die quicker,
And all you can do is watch and
Learn my path to ever loving self destruction.
And you'll know I'm better than you,
Cos nothing else will hurt so bad,
Burn so hot,
Die so angry,
Spit it out, and
Give
In
To
Me
You are there again,
Here again,
Around again,
Constricting and confusing,
Restricting and deluding,
Predicting and alluding,
And I just want to be.
You have to let me know
What it is I just don't know
Tell me what I need to know,
And I don't care to listen,
I know what I'm not missing,
Won't be reminiscing,
'Cos I just want to be.
But you won't leave me now,
Gotta keep me now,
Stay forever now,
And I want releasing,
Want to feel liberating,
Want to be escaping,
But mostly I just want to be.