The Winter Is Coming

-Who Is as I am
So Broken and Very.
(No) I Won This Life
At a Burned Down Carnival
And It was S(he) who Walked
Through The Wasted Sunset
(In My Days Door)
The Driftwood Princess
S(he) Turns the Key
Till Soon it was Dusk
At Beneath The Lame Tower

(And Stars)
Yet, (Still) I Can Smell the Leaves
And Feel
At Fire & Place.
  (Yes)
I Held, In Mine (All Mine)
(Slow)
The Little Sparrow (And There Wasn’t Any Time)
(Nor Air) –

-The Morning After Me
I Lived All My Imagined Life
And Found
What Few Could Find
(Away, What good Thing you Were Mine)
And Even I-(Healed The Blisters Of the Rain)
Untill All My Days were Drained…
All That I could Give, I Gived… to you
And so Died,
…The Morning After Me –

-In the Direction of Georgia (Somewhere)
Maybe…
There is a Smile waiting for me
Not an Ordinary Smile (No)
(Because Those do not Exist)
But one that is Uniquely Akin to me
(And Only I can Cause Its Occurence)
And Maybe
(Also), theres a New Day Sun…
And A Kiss Like Fire (Not Mundane Or Normal)
But One that Opens a Door (And Lets Me See All)
(Because, The Kiss like Fire) My Dear (Is Just That Bright)
Like a New Day Sun, behind my Eyelids.
Yes
(Somewhere)
… In the Direction of Georgia
Maybe. –

The Chupacabras have all Left

I Await the Slow Ruin

My Last Year of Life

And The Long Drive into the Plemura

Oh Silent Hill, Oh Silent Night

How Many Horrors Will There Be before

The End of That Road?

I Listen to Sounds of The Autogenes

Activating in the Night, the Bodies

Exploding into Tentical Things

And Writhing against my Bedroom Door

Clammoring for a Way In

And I Wait for The Wards and the Sigils

To Activate… Spontaneous Combustion

Like Christmas Charols…

Every Night… Every Night…

And I Pray that It isn’t Like that… Where you are…

But what can I Do?

When It Was Written that No Flesh would be Spared…

It was The Truth.

Fighting the End of Days, with Magic that I Cannot Teach

And Endless Slaughter that I Must Fufill.

My Quota Is Almost up.

Soon There Will Just Be that Last Quiet Night

Before I Fade… and They Take Over Everything.

I Wonder How Hard it Will Be… Coming Back?

New Born Phoenix… I Am The End.

Bounce-less sincerity into rubbery somewhat

I Bait my Breath,

I wait for the cookie, I snap my teeth—

Regret waddling back into its corner,

All mallard green evil, All the duck eyes alit

Holding out, a fire, and smoke

Going upward, always up.

A Heaven  of stalled cars in dirty snow,

The raw wind, just a scarf

hello, and then hello again in deaf.

Chringing Noun, the face of all love now,

Is a stranger,

Crashing royal masturbation,

The king fingering his beard,

The stuttering wedge of white hot noon

Above: leaf-writhed, fizzled air,  crowd flocking

To Nothing but bunched

Togethor screams forming lips around the wind’s sneer,

A Beheaded Body can Take 32 Steps. In 1336, King Ludwig of Bavaria sentenced nobleman Ditz von Shaunburg and four of his associates to death for the crime of treason. The nobleman and his friends were to be beheaded. Before the execution, the king asked Ditz to express his final wish. The nobleman asked the king to forgive his friends if his beheaded body were to miraculously be able to run by them. Schaunburg specified that the convicted were to be put in a line with eight steps between each of them. The king burst into laughter, but he promised to fulfill the nobleman’s last wish. Ditz got down on his knees in front of a block. The executioner cut his head off, but the body jumped up and ran by the other convicted people to the immense horror of the king and everyone who witnessed it. The beheaded body made 32 steps, having passed the last person in the line, it tumbled to the ground dead. The king kept his promise. -The End-

Floats chaste as snow, taunts the clouded mind. {Rub Two People Together in the Right Way, Merry} {Christmas.} Like Fry Judas, Fry. And Potatoes salting Christ, Going sly warped perhapsy, And Santa Claus bombing Nixon to cherry glass. So dull and wet (all downward red cheer and sweet tongue knotted stem) crowning King of hear, yell the godless And quiet so dumb it thinks bullets are thunder. Flying hedgehogs, all prickles And slow sweet singing of touch undressing quick retraction That only hungers to haul the white reflection down To bleed, which are what fingers dream Except that being, my spider fingers who only wish to crawl Along your back, and maybe tangle your hair Into a web of fuck and fry our bacon in the heat of between. Slick & bubbling fat glazing the window of good hurting; what solace Waving and crutchless that rising organ vibration, Calling god, only to wake up inside you and howl (Running white hot up/down your body) And I catch him with my tongue as he fly’s steam out your ear) Locked forever into warm glass beads rolled wet down your neck And never more will prayers Ever be answered. (Just one damp plop of Divinity, arms locked in flesh collasped sheets) As The Bed Flies And we drop profanity Down every chimney in the world. -The End-

A small Stain. and every passenger indifferent. Unicycle loves you but only on one wheel, As yesterday I saw the mind was a squirrel caught crossing Two wheels and blind faith flailing The concrete swallowing all our dreams And our fluffy tails the only thing remaining Uncrushed, white snapping up through skin and all life draining in to the cracks, Teeth shattered to dust and the wheels unfazed Merely hurling on, weaving their way Towards un-named grocery stores. The sky tearing up eventually, inevitably, That great loving stranger, salivating over so much ruin, The green hillside taunting, I am here, I am here. But Why, couldn’t You reach me? -The End-

Mr. Screw Hands is not a Metaphor for Masturbation

Birth is a Death Sentence

       {A Deaf Sentence

        Just a Sentence

        Nouns, verbs and Adjectives Huddling together in the Cold.

        For on the Page

        There is only Snow,

        Endless Snow

        And Birth

        Is a Death Sentence.}

-thend-

“Public opinion is no more than this: what people think that other people think.”

 

They never were but thwarted sound

into the door. I go back and the notes

Poisoned, dripping with the beginnings of your breath,

Tongues like burnt match-sticks

Touching Loosely on the Crawl back to bliss

perpetual sunset, comprehensive, consoling,

scribbled in trembled clutching fingers

As hundreds of fine black birds.

One can hear their crying, crying,

in that flushed, still sky.

With heaven knows how many angels all riding

To sit down and weep; To go shopping,

To Sleep on the Ceiling

And chase your lives from your unfinished reach.

As snow laying undissolved upon the water

sparing with fleeing sun. Each of weight, each of Iceberg Dares

Consumed as Lepers in the Waves, falling through the Waterless

Now 

Bright green leaves edged neatly with bird-droppings

long petals of plywood, pierced with odd holes,

Clouds full of glistening splinters

carelessly nailed, looking like nothing at all,

These are the Homes of our Childhood Now…

Haunted Houses… Delapidated from lack of Use…

roughly but adequately,

We May never hear the plaster
Stir as if in pain.
May never hear the roaches
Falling like fat rain.

Losing to

Dreams and all of wood. Watch it closely.

Drop the Match

For These are the years and the walls of the ward,

Shuddering insights, Beyond Births control,

half-shining, like Us, lost on a driftwood sea

This world of books gone flat.

Our Lives lost to the Cost of Dreams we Never Had…

Such is the Ease of rooms in falling rain. Yes

These are the years and the walls and the door

Swallow Of air and mouthfuls of cold mist. Give voice,

Half squatter, half tenant

(no rent)—

The shadow of the crib makes an enormous cage.

-thend-

Don’t listen to Things, that Shouldn’t be Talking in the First Place. Just think of Words as a very Slow moving Bullet. They’ll kill you eventually. (You only think that, because you like words too much) [Replied the Rock] (Well you only think that, because you don’t realize words are all there is) [Replied the Grass] (They’re right, stupid rock, did the picture come first? Or did the words become the picture Before the Picture even Realized?) [Replied the Tree] Well you guys only think that, because I’ve just Overdosed on Something. [Replied the Man] And the Man Was Right. -thend-

—————————————

It is living and ceasing to live that are imaginary solutions. Existence is elsewhere. “Reality is not always probable, or likely.” Earth’s crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God; But only he who sees, takes off his shoes – The rest merely sit-round it and Roast S’mores. (Pyromaniacs, Always being Diety’s Favorites) Turning the black flies that crawl along the ceiling,— And we think that, in some pause of angels’ song, The reddest flower would look as pale as snow. Touch it; the marble eyelids are not wet; A Statue is a Statue Whether a budding Tree or a crumbling Rock. The Sun? even a little cloud can Pale. The Rain? merely an Umbrella. Where in this is the Might of Heaven? A Miracle? Nothing but the Years spinning round, An accumulation of Dreams into Being. The Greatness of Man? Merely a step through the door that brought the sun in: (following behind, like a lazy dog. Peeking in the Windows And crawling around the blinds) All that vast yesterday over which today I bend? Just the Murmur of crowds milling and fading away; Just a few coins and an old hour glass, Days? Innocent, ruthless, bloodstained, sleek Easily, they are trapped under the splendid, Quivering cover of skin. (God. May these Days never Break Free..) Time? Nothing but the Haunting Ghost Of all that space You will Live Without me. -TheEnd-

——————————————–

 

Pleasure Gives only in Taking…

What you Had… That You Didn’t Want

And You Certainly… Certainly…

Didn’t want love…

The evening multitudes of sin

Immense, black, damned, anonymous.

Or whistling, I am not a little boy.

Thereafter nothing fell out as it might or ought.

(No Goblins. No Zombies. No Feral Squirrels in the Trees)

Just an empty that grows in every bed,

long falls of exits and all repeatingly,

(not a real word to stack upon the others)

(But used regardless)

Just an empty that grows in every bed

Filling the compact

And delicious

Body. What Grace had been and caused to abound.

In brown Skin, with tall poles and a pack of hounds.

Thin as a sheet, maybe, but never will we be free.

The small bridge, the red houses and the fire,

We may wander for distraction, but we travel for fulfillment,

The moon on the left and the dawn on the right.

And Still,

A Lake,

Sin drives the Heart. Skipping, The Water

What Goodness there Could be. In Sinking.

Thin as a sheet, maybe, but never will we be free.

Time, not a Cure All.

Merely a courtesy,

To Forget,

What was Wrong to begin with.

My body is a witch. I am burning it.

-thend-

 

The Serpents Rattle, a bottle of pills

——-

I’ve got Drunk
On your Voice in the doorway.

a Wish to assimilate the World, including

Surrounding me, tipped over Ashtray

Complete things which Rule out Osmosis

Like a starved dog’s logic about bones.

Talk it all over, have a Calm

Genteel or otherwise

For Sex

     Is not Dentistry

The slick Filling of Aches and Cavities,

But in my arms till Break-of-day

A Bare Love’s Hips mounting Scorched and peeling floorboards,

sear of lick halfway between

Radiant flesh. Incandescent.

Empty themselves and become Hollow

[Fuck]

It’s always the moment just before a gunshot

Bleeding out

the blanket of another body

a raw voice
loose in the rooms beneath me.

of daring Escapes through Skin and snow

from a distance, frankly, like dunces’ hats,

sauntering out of the almost-

Duress of Nights    Good kiss and paradise

At the end of it

Ruining the streets with villains:

skulls bleached into a Sunset.

And When the Shooting starts, as hands clasped —

Bullet Shatter of glass; nothing more abrupt,

Some… momentary access to God…

But one prize is beyond All Our reach,

That order of Bland Madness in Snows

The disastrous ice, the wind rising

Sex Printed up with important facts

So an age ended, and its last deliverer died

And One Last Cigarette,

And One Last Cuddle

Unconscious of final ends,

About the difference between the ache,

To think of Love as a Subjective fake,

Why every Lover has a wish to make .

Time watches from the shadow
And coughs when you would kiss

So in Reply

Strip off your clothes and dance,

And Can for such- at Once be Understood

That the deeper river Runs on.

Whether Time as Ice

Covers, other, wise, or not

Regardless

Bring out the Coffin, let the Mourners come.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,

I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

Time as Ice and Drifts moves On.

While an abstract insight wakes

Among the jagged glacier’s kiss and rocks

Not a whisper, not a thought,

Lay your Sleeping Head, my Love

Time is Naught.

-The End-

———————————————

And once again, I have nothing remotely interesting to talk about.

It Rained all Night and this morning at dawn the fog was so thick you could inhale and exhale it like smoke. That Sums up my Day

(Oh and I had Wendy’s)

Currently in the process of Throwing Gummy Bears into a Large Glass Jug. Add Water and Yeast. Let sit for A week or Two.

And Whallah! Gummy Bear Wine, that will cause Lightbulbs to speak in Morse Code.

Which is amusing for about 10 seconds, till you realise the only thing they ever say, amounts to Nothing but Profanity.

And Lots of IT!

-thend-

Buoyed like the young moon on a level stream,

Touched the clear-trembling cool with tiny shocks,

But where was it yesterday, and where this morn?

(ing)

That moon, like a magician’s trick, Some white

rabbit

from a hat.\\\

Slashes of gunfire echo from over the hill.

My Neighbors are shooting pistols at each other

through the walls again.

A Regular and weekly occurrence.

He’s lost his job

And their health fled long ago.

They are poor and they are dying

And their children have Never

Come to visit.

The gossip is, (Coming Eviction)

But other people do not understand,

And maybe you don’t either,

But this is a love letter from Tennessee.

They love each other, its clear to see

As one cooks in the kitchen

And one watches TV

And they spell out their love

With bullets through the wall.

Homeless? They’d rather be dead!

Kill themselves? No, Religion said.

But they love each other

And they want to be together.

They want to die, both of them

and they knew this

Without speaking it to the other.

So they fire bullets blindly through a wall.

(So much love,

the idea of seeing the other when it happens)

(Impossible)

The people here are terrified,

But I’m not afraid of getting hit by a bullet

I know the guns they use are old.

Just thundering echoes washing against my body

Like promises.

(Nothing but love letters and Tennessee)

–The Trigger, Just a Prayer… Let God Sort Out The Rest.–

-Thend-

Going Through Memories of The End.

When the Dead Rose from the Sea

I was Waiting in My Garage for You

You were Only an Hour Away

But Nothing is Fair…

They were Not as We had ever Imagined them to be…

Millions Upon Millions of Cross Black Coffins

Falling with a Banshees Whail into the Oceans

The Kind that Makes your Bones Scream

And Every Nerve Shreds against the Next

And You are Sure that The World is at it’s End.

They Rose from the Waters So Fast

After the First One Walked onto The Beach

You still hadn’t Gotten into Your Car…

And I Still sat waiting for You…

But They Poured into Homes so Fast

That Even as the Lights went Out

And the Power Died… They Were Miles

Upon Miles Ahead… Covered in Blood

Burning Black as Coal…

The Entire East Coast Drowned in Death

And As I Waited… They Caught You on The Border

Of the Smokey Mountains with me On the Other Side…

I Didn’t Want to Accept It… I Didn’t Have a Choice…

It was Just, “I See The Mountains, God!? What is That?”

And Then all I Could hear was the Cell phone Hitting the

Driver’s Side Floor and Your Foot Turning it Off…

I Called Back almost Laughing… But I never Heard your Voice

Again… And That… That is Going to Piss Me Off… Forever…

They Were on Me Next barely Ten Minutes from Then

They Clawed at my Face, Cold Intangible Fingers Ripping at Skin…

Kicking and Tareing Back, The Car wasn’t Much Protection

The Speed wasn’t Either…

I Ran Over Them the Entire way to the Missippi

They Activated the Fema Camps while I Was in Missouri

The Interestate’s Sprung with Tire Shredding Prongs

Little Square like Shredders Springing up Between every White

And Yellow Line…

I Burned with the Pale Fire Once More… That Old Crutch…

Original Sin.

The Memories Always Flood Back… Deja Vu.

“I Am Become Death, The Shatterer Of Worlds…”

How Many Times Have I Been Through This… Deathless…

Alone…

Every World The Same… and Every World, I lose You.

My Blood is a Weapon, My Shiny Teeth Flash in Fire…

What Is there For This but Endless Slaughter?

And So… The Pale Horse Rides Again…

Melancholy Joy.

–

And As I parted through the way

Knowing each Raindrop by its secret name

They In Their Affection

Kissed me Softly, A Thousand Thousand Times

It was Intimacy on some Divinely Indescribable Level

All The Secrets of Life whispered on the Tongue Of Collision

The Accent Of Gust

I saw The Sky Race with Flashes of Searing Beauty

A scat 5 Seconds of the Most Illicit and Nigh Pornographic

Peep Show.

The Thunder Soon Followed

Like Uproarious Applause from some Drunkard God

(Completely Ruining the Moment….)

They say it Can’t Rain All the Time

But I Wish. it would.

(I really do)-

The Joke and The Irony of All these Burning Bridges

Is that You think I only want Sex

But isn’t that The only Time you Ever Have for Me?

Where are You when I Want to see a Movie?

Where are You when I Want to Visit the Zoo?

Where are You For All the Things I Enjoy in Life

Where are You? Always with someone Else

Somewhere Else…

Until you Need the Best sex in Your Life

Then and Only Then Am I Wanted…

Or When You Need Protected

Or Comforted

I’m Little more Than a Blanket and a Pillow

One Daily that You Burn for Reasons I Cannot Understand…

Always Attacked for Searching For Love

When… You’ve Never had Any to Offer.

Never Enough Room… To Actually Reach You.

Dead Hands For

Dead Games in a crumpled Bag

Rumble Stiltzkin in The Black n White Hearse

And Where the Coffins fall Nobody noes.

I penned you as a Lion instead of a Bear

Neither Lacking the Spine for Whats to Come

And Still we Lose while we Lose

There Will never be Enough Death for This

n Never Enough Life

Save What God pours Into our Cups

So Cheers for Then And Now

What Was and Will Not be.

Half Danced across the Toes

Pressed and Possed upon the Threshold

The Rain Tumbling through Hair…

I Came as a Liar…

I Left With the Truth.

Screams and Screams that are Lost into the Wind

Gnotted Fists and Curl Bitten Fingers

Every Line is Known and Loved

But Heres Some Sage Advice Kitten

You Aren’t The One Who Decides For You

And You Aren’t The One Who Decides for me Either.

I Decided I Would Dissappear and Yet Here I Sit.

You Decided Love Wasn’t Real and Yet Despite You it Roosts.

Freedom…

Only Matters to Those Who Have the Will For It

“The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world. Who would be born must destroy a world. That bird flies to God.”

If the chick cannot break the shell of its egg, it will die without being born.

We are the chick; the world is our egg.

If we cannot break the world’s shell, we will die without being born.

And Finally to Myself the Admittance that…

It’s Because of You I Discovered The Reason Why

We Were Born With Two Fists.

And If Only that We’re Enough…

But I’ve Gotta Fall

Quite Far

To Reach You.

The Old Old Old Joke

About The Long Long Long Ago

Is That The Real Trust Fund Babies

Are Just Kickin in about Now.

These Douche Bags From 5 Thousand Years Ago

Who Think they can Come in Here and Harvest All that Wine

With Their Magical Ship THE WHORE OF BABYLON.

And Their Ineffable Father The Fucking Sodomite of Sources of Sources.

With All The Names of Blasphemy On Their Foreheads…

Ohhhh Woah Dude Cool Tatoo Your the Virginal Virgin of Virginhood

YEUOL MESSACH MESSIN YESSADCH SETH

Oh Woahy I’m Gettin All Yiddish in My Pants over Your Eternal Light!

Problem Is… I’m The Mother’Fuckin End And My Name Is Dubious Panda.

-The End-

Sometimes I Get Maddeningly Giddy.

It’s All so Wonderful infact…

All These Amazingly Powerful Entities

Rarer than Unicorns all Gambling at the Bit

For a Victory of Straw.

You See Where we Are, There is Infact So Much Suffering

You’ve Become Numb to It…

But to Someone Not From Anywhere Near Here it Would Overwhelm Them

Instantly, like a Coma, a Death they Could Not Wake From…

The Knowledge of Good and Evil.

It’s Created Such a Concave of Wonder, Chaos Itself Has Come

Here To Reap, Bad and Wrong, Kill and Murder

This is a Very Very Tiny Place, Inside of a Beast.

But Stored Here to Starve The Beast Is a Trillion Years or more of Wonder…

ALL that he Hoped to Devour… All that He Swallowed to Become…

One Wonders in Such Depraved Actions… Did He Swallow the Bride

Too… Or Did She Come with Son of God?

Did You Know That Within Each Atom enough Energy to Generate

An Entire Universe Out of Incarnate Energy is Stored…

(And I Use The TERM GENERATE, as In By the Milli-second.)

This was a Scheme Given to The Lamb by God, and Woefully Wonderful it Is…

And Just a Small part of it, is that… The Entire THING

It’s so Vast and Complex it Can Only be Described as HIS STORY.

And To Top it All Off it’s a Romance!

The Bride and The Groom, The Saints and The Sinners…

A Vast incomprehensably Wonderful Story…

Please, I Address You… Open Your Eyes To It.

You Are In The Belly of The Beast.

And Yet… A Being That Eats Universes Cannot Harm You?

A Thing so Tiny No One Knows About You Or Even Searchs

Something So Small it Wouldn’t Ever Be MISSED

Except BY GOD.

That is What you All Are…

And I Find Myself Spinning in my Rolly Chair in Awe.

When The Lamb Turns on The Switch

We Will Be Alit by a Fire that Has Never Before Been Seen

How Many Trillions Upon Trillions Upon Trillions Of OHMTOHM

(The Correct Ponounciation of Atom is OHM TO OHM)

Will Make Up The Body of Addam Kaddmon

Each Generating Enough Energy to Spark An Entire Universe into Being

Such Will be The Bride Addorned For Her Wedding…

And I Cannot Possibly Conceive of How Beautiful a Sight it Will be…

Not Only That, But the Sublim Detail that Out of the Most Horrific

Situation Imaginable Not a Single Soul will be Lost.

The Marvel of Marvel’s Awaits…

But First Comes The Breaking.

DON’T EVER CLICK THIS LINK~ SERIOUSLY

http://www.gnosis.org/naghamm/goseqypt.html

This Is Possibly one of The Most Frightening Reads you’ll ever Come Across…

It Includes All the Names of The Beast…

It Includes All of Their Blasphemies and Lies and also the Name of The False Prophet

And The Whore Of Babylon with all the Names of Blasphemy Written Upon their Heads.

Yet Their Seed isn’t Even Dust for The Son of Man… Is The Man of Dust

And They Are But Chaff Burning in The Winds… Be Careful Not to Say any of These Names

Outloud… Infact Don’t Ever Even Read Them.

Those Books should have never been Released but… Danger is Danger…

Now They are All Going to Die the Second Death

DONE and DONE

Massive Universe Size Assholes Dying in Fire.

The Hilarious Thing Is, NNO ONE EVER WANTED To Translate that

Because Who Ever Did Would SURELY be Killed by the Word for Doing That.

You Have No Idea HOW HORRIBLE the Entities Transcribed in That Are

Save for the Fact Sodom and Gomorah Were Their incorruptible Holy Cities. Upon the Earth.

Hails from the Dark Ages of Khemet After the Tower of Babel Pissed off some of their lackies.

I Mean… LOW LOW LOW LOW LOW down the Totem Pole Lackies… Geeeze

The Beyond is Wild.