And in my exile…I found pain. I felt its blaze and desired more. I’m morbidly blessed with agony, and everything that can crush you…I was suppose to die as well for my ways are no more…what is man? More at it, would be
what has man become?
Morose perceptions… dead sun, black dawn unveiling my etiolation.
And how can I say it as though I would want it another way?
This Tenebrae……. will never heal, fade, nor mend.
The edge of my blade fades calmly with the winds
in this dragging agony, gnosis roars around tearing through me
every monad falls plagued in Molchness intervals
it’s in these severing thoughts
I offer my heart
strike true Artemis
how I dare stare shamelessly
relentless decadent perversions
prevailing motive of desire
lucid intent, I speak as I stare…I see my pale reflection, look what I’ve become!? Is this creature that stands before all shadows…the justice you seek? How long may the sky bruise before turning black? How many years in remorse? How do I heal from an endless cancer?……Silence!!! How dare you try to fathom an answer! The filth and rage rises to the sedges of my eyes, and you think I can not see that you all are in servitude? Why in Hells flame would I seek solace from your veiled perception? You have no answers, you live no life, you have no purpose… you’re like me. No matter how I wish we weren’t brothers…we are…we share the same stars, the drowning lights
only allow dim sights.
Yet with all insight
I still divide personas
cutting every mask
every scale and horn…
first life is taken
along side age and insanity
burning pain and unfulfilled desires
I am the slowest death
my blades were forged by the winds of the suns creation…
and I killed my brother long ago…woe unto me…woe unto me again
and forever! This is art! This is nature! The gnawing pale creature scarred and mauled before you is the moon era of Qayin…
Categories: Angelo Vasquez, poems
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