It's everything and nothing you always avoided and wanted to be.
It's ingrown flowers blooming deadly, hiding your eyes so you can see.
It's breaking ground and stopping production on all these beautiful terrors.
It's clouding out and shining light on a perfect God's great error.
It's the time it took to leave and stay for all eternity.
It's time to show the bastard your rights to paternity.
It's laser-guided capability that can't find a fucking thing.
It's a slashed throat bleeding everywhere, and stopping just to sing.
It's the breathtaking artwork of archane machinery making you vomit on the beach.
It's the softest touch ripping off your hand; it's yourself that's out of reach.
It's the way they fell when they stood tall, selling you out for their ideals.
It's the way you're numb all day long, and no one else knows how it feels.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Aggressive Perfector*
*from Slayer's 'Haunting the Chapel', 1984
She came along and took it from my hands, the blanket I'd woven for myself.
It engulfed her like blood, like a comfort so few would understand.
She filled it out much better than I ever could have, the bumps and curves in all the right places.
There was something fundamentally wrong with the picture, though.
This was me and what I am. This was building quite a dam.
This was every overtaking I'd resisted for years.
She came along and wrapped herself in it, the crimson cover I had sought.
It kissed every line and ran like wildfire over every single turn.
The body was definately still warm.
There was something indecent about the thoughts I couldn't contain.
This was my last straw of pride. There was no one left on my side.
This was the loss of a fate I couldn't quite make.
She took it off, only to rise again, freed from sanguine captivity.
It fell like the curtain from some show only I could see.
She made it her own in a way that was still foreign to me.
There was something wonderful about the abandonment I felt.
This was me, once again alone, and this was me, chilled to the bone.
This was the fear I needed, and now I'm beautifully unwhole.
She came along and took it from my hands, the blanket I'd woven for myself.
It engulfed her like blood, like a comfort so few would understand.
She filled it out much better than I ever could have, the bumps and curves in all the right places.
There was something fundamentally wrong with the picture, though.
This was me and what I am. This was building quite a dam.
This was every overtaking I'd resisted for years.
She came along and wrapped herself in it, the crimson cover I had sought.
It kissed every line and ran like wildfire over every single turn.
The body was definately still warm.
There was something indecent about the thoughts I couldn't contain.
This was my last straw of pride. There was no one left on my side.
This was the loss of a fate I couldn't quite make.
She took it off, only to rise again, freed from sanguine captivity.
It fell like the curtain from some show only I could see.
She made it her own in a way that was still foreign to me.
There was something wonderful about the abandonment I felt.
This was me, once again alone, and this was me, chilled to the bone.
This was the fear I needed, and now I'm beautifully unwhole.
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