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| die Tür von guten Männern |
« Ils assassinent toute la Création afin de bouffer baiser et déféquer ! »
Within your chaste crowded bosom, and all my tortured pleading heart, those now burnt sundry unnamed shiver at the mere touch of you, inside down there at their new hostel in Nebelheim.
A heavy chest, a terrible pressure between the two ears, I had. Drivel at lips’ corner. The old the ill the young the new born, our Mothers. Our Fathers too. Ghosts torn from their hearths to tear.
Now. Strips and disheartening shreds of a Dark Face haunt us. The black adversary. Our shadow selves, the Judas in the bottom drawer.
** * ** **
Reclined upon the couch of Inner Earth. Sustained secretly by the Vril of now, our long gone parents, lost to us unabashedly in the palm of a deluded & terrifying stupidity. Will come transmigrated into new vessels of elated value. Their worth an amber sap bubbling impatiently till a New Sky and New Earth in the Aïther renew…
Like a Mad Jester, practicing the Ancient Magic Charms of Bon : on oneself & on the others with us without knowing. The corpses laugh, draining the sky into the Mind’s torch.
A middle stellar-sun. Clutched in agony , with roots and worms, betrayed beyond comparison, stifling hatred. Inebriated with bitters and aloes. Absorbing the organic tissues, digesting the black bile in a rotten vesicle. Crushing with the akashic muscles the crisping thwarting shame.
Yet all honor has returned. The Great Spirit resurrecting the Polar stature from a pile of bones and melted flesh.
From this Time in Eternity on a better stage with odds on this forsaken God’s side, we shall permeate with yellow acid bowels the lavish mountainsides while the souls of Dresden seethe thru the calcaire cracks and iron oxide, budding green and marigold.
