The Prophesy

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Love is the mother of creation
Death is the father of transformation
Life is the daughter of the fusion
Maker and breaker of illusion

The moon dances with her star
Burning for him from afar
Her shadow lures his light to surge
Cries of love and war converge

Chaos sings its fateful claim
The rhythm of the world aflame
From whence its heart is torn,
Erosia is born.



The Lure of the Swan

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The lure of the Swan
Is a curse when she is gone
Shall the Hunter yearn
For a sign of her return

White as pearl is his skin
But the fire roars within
As he haunts her lair
His desire burns her bare

Her heavenly breast
Draws his arrow to her nest
She surrenders her will
To the throes of the kill

Translation to Silindion – by Elliott Lash.

Kamara sínië
Vaphurnë yanisë’nië
Ninén i lavan
Lillannu vohwild’anyë

Thermar parlosil
Erma daván i faya
Vë pherseina lennánëa
Salányë ethatë sunanya

Hwanga molkósëa kíldië
Vanasutín essiranna
Yauyón surúnëa
No nekenta nánkëa⁠

You throw it all away (Part 4)

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If I said I wasn’t tempted I’d be Nyack’s biggest liar
I’m mesmerized and paralyzed and twitching with desire
Your body is a temple where I worship lust for men
But I’d rather eat a corpse than go to bed with you again

You tangle me like poetry that no one understands
You break me with your smile and collect me with your hands
I’m a magnet to your hipbone and a sucker for your charms
But I’d rather drown a kitten than lie naked in your arms

It’s not that I see noncommital sex as a sin
And its not that I’m resentful or determined to win
I’m challenged and inspired by the mind games you play
But I’d rather bathe in vomit than give myself away

I remember the first time you took me to your bed
I loved another man but I went home with you instead
I thought my broken heart could be mended by lust
And I wondered if my instinct was the one thing I could trust

In the passion of the chase and the craze you put me through
I found myself believing I could fall in love with you!
Then one night I realized as I spread myself apart
I’d rather straddle swords than have a crotch for a heart

You told me once upon a time you would have wanted more
But love was just a dream and it was not worth burning for
So I kicked you off the pedestal and watched you from afar
Cuz I’d rather burn to ashes than become the way you are

Libido Bride

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ii could show you stars
you didnt know you werent seeing
ii could make you stronger than
the man you dream of being
ii could feed you chemicals
your tongue can’t even taste
you’d live a thousand years
and not a night would go to waste

but you grunt and hide
too tough for slip and slide
you won’t let me take you
you won’t let me break you
you won’t let me make you 
my libido bride

you’d have so much freedom
that you wouldn’t even want it
ii’d dress you up so sexy
you would never have to flaunt it
ii’d walk you through the desert
and ii’d drive you to the sky
ii’d let you love without me
and ii’d never ask you why

but you won’t let me break you
you won’t let me take you
real men love to lose control
but ii guess my red dress
is too tight around your soul

ii can smell desire
like a lion spots its dinner
and ii can cure erections
like a priest can purge a sinner
my stomach knows the texture
of a man who craves my sweat
each time ii get you hard
ii only yearn to get you wet

but you grunt and hide
too tough for slip and slide
you won’t let me take you
you won’t let me break you
you won’t let me make you 
my libido bride

real men love to lose control
but ii guess my red dress
is too tight around your soul


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I am mad. I am mad in both senses of the word: crazy, and angry. I was not mad last week, and I may not be mad next month. Now, here, I am mad. I don’t intend to become anything other than mad. I am angry enough to destroy myself but too disoriented to follow through. I hate myself for wanting to die over this, and I am crazy to believe that this is the only thing in my life that matters. This is a bomb in my chest waiting to explode; a truth squashed under the wheel of time that only the twists of madness could unfold. This is obsession. This is failure. This is inspiration. This is love.


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destruction of a dream…. “I just wanted to destroy something beautiful” -fight club

destruction is not possible without creation and creation can not exist without destruction

i want to twist a human neck around so i can feel the folds of skin clutching the tips of my fingers, up against my nail stubs. i want to feel flesh surrounding my knuckles. i want to dig into a human face and squeeze the eyeballs just to know what the insides of an eyeball would feel like. i want to squirt blood and splash around in it on a cold day. i want to paint with human intestines. i want to chew a vein and slobber so there is blue blood dripping down my lips. i want to kick either side of a human head, smash in towards the ears until it explodes and makes a squishy noise. i want to stick my tongue behind a pair of front teeth and pull until they pop out, so i can hear the crunch. i’d sample all the sounds of human destruction and write them into a drum beat. then i would sing over the beat, just to enforce my point. sing. destroy. create something beautiful manifested into the sounds, the movements, the voice of destruction.
if destruction had a voice, it would be mine.
if death could speak, it would sound the way i sound. 
i want to hear it all around me. i want to take the rest of the world with me. i want my music to show people what silence tastes like. let them lick their lips and swallow their shadows.

everybody has one. step into the fucking light. why do you think i only come out at night? i see too many shadows without help from the blazing ball of fire that crosses our horizon every morning and makes colors brighter. my vision is saturated and my fingers are melting every time i hear the soft sound of a piano. it strangles me like the kick of a man who beats the shit out of me after sex. i know he’s just doing it because i made him love me. it’s always my fault. i only love for the sake of creation, so what can i expect? 


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you are the lapse between pulse and breath
the smoke that carries fire to lung to chest to blood
the intangible distance separating truth from flesh
softening the threat of death

you are not now and never here
the trail of a tear, lust tamed by fear
you are the silence between the plucks of your guitar

ii met you in a peaceful place
somewhere between time and space
your defiance of grace
unpainted my face

ii turn back behind
clear white black blind
ii find you anywhere
when ii open my eyes youre no longer there

and ii cant decide
what ii should reveal
how can ii hide
if this isn’t real


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that after – hour shiver

midnight turmoil
sky in my eye
skin in my hand
he will demand an explanation
before our expiration date
runs late
it’s that hour when its
too early to be morning
and too late to be night
too wrong to be right
and too much left to write
skim my heart
and wipe the dust
you’re hazerdous to my formless lust
pretend you don’t hate
the ones you left behind
initiate, abbreviate
do you really think
you can hide from the blind?
they can find you
in the heart
that you tore apart
and signed
and sold as art


Silver Plastic Smiles

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this digging further down
it’s not allowed
this cryptic self destruction wrapped in silver plastic smiles
not allowed
another yearning burning call
kill them all
they cant be here
they cant hear
what we are
must go far from this place wrapped in silver plastic
drastic data base

ii could touch his face but that would set me back a mile
ii could silver plastic smile but that would push me far ahead
and then ii’d never see his face again
ii’d never love his face again
ii’d never love again
ii’d never love
ii’d never love
ii’d only silver plastic smile for a while till ii’m paid
then ii’m laid
then ii’m married then ii’m happily-ever-aftered
well ii’ll happyeverafter myself
sitting in a silver spoon and cooking for the kiddies
and working with the yuppies buying puppies for their children
that’s where ii could hide away
from this touch face game ii play
this maybe ii could love again and maybe he still loves me is my only answer
but he doesn’t love me anymore
and ii am falling deeper down
digging for my soul
digging for my heart returned to me so someone else can tear it apart
so ii dont have to follow him forever in despair

“give it back and ii will use it well
give it back or let me touch your face
let me kiss you
let me feel your arms again
let me fall into warm saturdays and bright blue spaceship eyes
transporting me straight to naked fucking on mountaintops
in trees with the animals
take me ii’m ready to touch your face
to suck your blood
take me ii want your mistakes all in one
thrust straight into my blood
it’s been dry for far too long
pick a song
turn up the volume
throw me down
and give me back what’s mine” 


~ Diary 2001

A Glowing White Life

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suppression repression
unwind my expression
and twist me into your fantasy wife
perfect love in a glowing white life
the smooth metal sides on the blade of the knife

love like the dream, it could come true
believe it and see it, ii can become you


ii’m a beautiful thing
a precious song
you can sing to yourself when ii’m playing it wrong

passion unfolds through the tips of my fingers
the moment is fleeting but the feeling lingers

and when ii am away from myself
you can find me wherever you want me to be
and explain to me how ii become what you see

it’s perfect and precious, but what does it mean?
are there costumes and set lights behind the scene?
who wrote the plot and the script of our lives?
who defined love? who made this decision?
who scripted our feelings and labeled our visions?
should we eliminate the parts of ourselves that don’t fit perfectly into the plot
the romance that thrives whether we do or not?

do we twist ourselves to become the ideal
or does fantasy fall at the sword of the real?

there must be some place in this world for us
and there has to be something inside you that understands
that ii am standing beside you
but ii do not exist merely to act out this dream

and you tell me you love me
but words are like steam
that will fly into the sky in the wind and disappear in the rain
we talk about fear and we laugh at our pain
but we can’t really show it when we are searching to know it.
everything falls around our hands as we touch each other’s skin
weaving and tingling our way in
closing our eyes for the ride, being naked together
there’s nothing to hide
but are our bodies strong enough to pull out what’s inside?

your eyes are like streams
deep and alive
and in the light ii can see my reflection
the only mirror in the world that gives me a sense of perfection 

  but ii know there is more that won’t fit in your eyes
it’s too big and too wild for spheres of that size.
ii want to fit your vision
but ii can not kill
the side of myself with the stronger will.

she’s been screaming since long before your eyes could see her
in frequencies deeper than streams can contain.
you want to love me but you can’t even see me without being drowned in the pain.

so where do we go from here?
what can ii say that ii’d want you to hear?
how long can ii show you what you love to see?
how physical can this dream ever be?

the places ii could show you do not deserve to be seen by your eyes
but if ii stay here away from my home
ii will live the rest of our love seeing my reflection
obscured by perfection
drowning in streams
limited by the confines of your dreams.

do we twist ourselves to become the ideal
or does fantasy fall at the sword of the real?


~ Diary 2001