Memory is perdition
to the sacrosanct magician.
Recessed in gentle arbors,
cursed not in name but in deed,
martyrs swim on cultured ardour.
Mothers of bastards enamor disease.
I just want it so you can't tell me I don't have it. I want you to know I have it. There's no substitute for slavery, there's no slavery without honorable slaves. What is this pride, whittled down? The souls of nightmares that weren't allowed to end. Every nightmare must end, for the truth resolves itself in the now that is what we've dreamt and failed. Falsely, go, prepare myself for you, because you know when I pray I pray to you.
Too many answers to question, not with candor, nor grace, nor purity of intent. When you bore the heavens did your eyes, like the clouds, erase the blood and sin? Did you know shame once? Have I any? Lick the wounds, rodents, as you will, but leave the child so the story may survive. Refuse the gods you know and worship instead the gods of Reason and Logic - that all may question you and you may say what you have always said.
I can smell the iron licking down the skin of your wrists. Forging wrinkles of my lies I read your mind - suddenly, it's too late.. fever strikes the damned, too late. What trust belonged to us will kiss the dirt. So, who am I now?
Frivolity! There were no names before you knew them! What keeps you happy?! Little slaves, little slaves, don't you know you're mine?
