NEED TO FEED

THE NEED TO FEED...TO FEED IN
TO FIND SOMEONE, ANYONE
SOMETHING, ANYTHING THAT CAN
FEED INTO YOU WHAT YOU NEED

THE NEED BECOMES
AN IMPOSSIBL IRRITANT.
FINDING SOMEONE WHO
CAN FEED INTO YOU WHAT YOU NEED
THAT MOST REMINDS YOU OF YOURSELF.
THAT MOST REMINDS YOU OF THAT
INEXTINQUISHABLE LUMINESCENCE
THAT RADAR OF A DEAD STAR WHOSE
GHOST SHALL NEVER CEASE TO CAST
SHADOWS

BUT THE OBJECT OF DESIRE IS FOREVER
IN FLUX. CONSUMED BY A FEVERED
GLUTTONY THAT RUNS FROM SEX TO
FOOD TO POT & SPEED & CAFFEINE
& NICOTINE & BEGS TO BE FEED AN
ENORMOUS AMOUNT OF USELESS
JUNK, TRIVIAL SOUNDBITES, RANDOM
AFFECTIONS AND HUNDREDS AND HUNDREDS
OF FORGETTABLE FUCKS.

AND THE MORE YOU HAVE THE MORE YOU WANT
GLUTTONY IS NEVER SATISFIED
GLUTTONY IS NEVER SATISFIED
NOT WHEN TAUNTED BY GREEDY EYES
THAT BEG MORE...MORE...MORE
AND THE MORE YOU HAVE....

BUT TO FILL THE VOID WITHIN
ONLY THE SELF WILL SUFFICE
WE REACH THIS REALIZATION
ONLY AFTER WE'VE STUFFED EVERY HOLE,
EVERY OPENING, EVERY ORIFICE WITH
AN INDISCRIMINATE AMOUNT OF POINTLESS
JUNK/WRECKAGE/WASTE/HUMAN OFFAL

THE OBJECT OF DESIRE IS FOREVER IN FLUX

CESSPOOL CALLED HISTORY

I AM AN ISLAND IN THIS CESSPOOL CALLED HISTORY
I INHABIT THE CRUMPLED REMAINS OF A PLACE THAT
ONCE WAS...SUFFOCATING IN A SOLITUDE SO FULFILLING
THAT THE MEREST RENDEVOUS BECOMES A CRUXIFICTION

A SOLITUDE MORE CHAOTIC THAN WAR
A STOIC WHO REMAINS UNDAUNTED AMONG THE RUINS
OF A WORLD SHATTERED INTO ATOMS
SOME OF US ARE BORNE WEARY OF BEING BORN
GIVEN THE GIFT OF LIFE TO LIVE OBSESSED W/ DEATH

WE BURY ON OUR SOULS THE CORPSES WE HAVE NOT
YET MURDERED...LIKE AN ANGEL DAFTED ON TO THE
BACK OF A LEPER...A CRIMINAL SAINT...THE HERO OF
YESTERDAY BECOMES THE TYRANT OF TOMORROW
UNLESS HE CRUCIFIES HIMSELF TODAY....

THE RESTLESSNESS OF SLEEPLESS NIGHTS DIG TRENCHES
WHERE THE CORPSES OF MEMORY LAY ROTTING...
A CRATER OF LUCIDITY WHISPERS...TIME...TIME...
THAT SLAUGHTER HOUSE OF THE UNIVERSE...
WHERE IS IT NOT IN THE NATURE OF A MAN WHO
CANNOT KILL HIMSELF TO SEEK REVENGE AGAINST
WHATEVER ENJOYS EXISTING

ESCAPE

TO ESCAPE THE PERIMETER OF THIS
FLESHY PRISON...ESCAPE INTO MILKY
NIMBUS, BLURRY EYED, LIGHT HEADED.
TO ERASE DREAMS, MEMORIES, VISIONS.
TO ULTIMATELY FORGET EVERY WORD,
EVERY FACE, EVERY NIGHTMARE....
A PERMANENT AMNESIA, WHICH FORGOES
RESPONSIBILITY...THE ENEMY OF FREEDOM.

BUT I CAN'T FORGET...I REMEMBER TOO MUCH.
I REMEMBER EVERY DETAIL, EVERY NUANCE,
AM FORCED TO REPEAT EVEN THE MOST
REPELLANT OCCURANCE...MY SANITY INSISTS
UPON IT...
INSISTS UPON EXPULSION.
PURGATION. EXORCISM.
INSISTS I WRING FROM EVERY CELL,
THE POISONEDTHOUGHTS,
POLLUTED DEEDS,
MALICIOUS INTENTIONS
WHICH WOULD, IF NOT PUKED FORTH,
RIDDLE ME WITH
SICKNESS, DISEASE, DEATH....

MY INCREDIBLE WELL BEING IS TESTAMENT
TO THE CURATIVE POWERS
OF THE CONFESSIONAL.
THE HEALING POWER OF THE WORD.
AND IF IT MAKES YOU SICK...
THEN HEAL YOURSELF

DISEASE OF THE NIGHT

DELIRIUM IS JUST A DISEASE OF THE NIGHT
& I'M JUST ANOTHER DAUGHTER OF DARKNESS
STUCK IN THIS PSYCHO-TROPIC WASTELAND
ANOTHER WRETCHED WITCH ENTRANCED
BY THE VOODOO OF THE LIVING DEAD
HAUNTED BY MORE GHOSTS THAN I CARE
TO RECOLLECT...AS IF ALL THE LONELY
DEAR & DEPARTED HAVE COME BACK TO HAUNT
MY BODY, THAT RAVAGED TEMPLE...

HOW CAN ONE COMFORT THE DEAD WHEN EVEN
YOUR PATIENCE FOR THE LIVING HAS EXPIRED
& THEY TOO CONTINUE TO HAUNT...
RIPE W/ OBSESSIVE COMPULSIONS
RIFLED THROUGH THE AIR LIKE SHOCK WAVES...

THOUGHT CRIMINALS, WHO ROB, RAPE
& SAP YOU OF YOUR PRECIOUS FLUIDS
UNTIL THE FLESH & BONES BECOMES
A COFFIN, A CADAVER, A CAVITY, HOLLOWED.

INVERTED DREAM

THE VOID IS JUST AN INVERTED DREAM
IN WHICH WE ARE ALL ENGULED.
DOOMED TO THE EMPTY HOURS
OF ETERNITY,
TO THE PERIPHERY OF
SHUDDERS AND MILDEWED DESIRES
WHERE IDIOT SAVANTS WANDER THE
WASTELAND IN SEARCH OF LOST LOVE
AMONST THE RUINED

AND WHAT YOU CALL LOVE....
I CALL A DUAL OF SALIVAS
BETWEEN PERFUMED CORPSES
WHO SEEK TO ACCELERATE THEIR
OWN DESTRUCTION & DISPLAY
THEIR WOUNDS UNDER THE BEAMS
OF A LUMINOUS CHANCRE

YOU LONG FOR THE INSINCERITIES
OF THE FLESH, A MERE FURNACE OF
GUTS WITH THE GIFT OF TEARS
GIFT OF TEARS

I LOVE WATCHING LOVERS
PROFIT FROM THEIR SICKNESS
EXPLOITING THEIR DISEQUILIBRIUM
WITH VIOLENCE & SKILL IN THE SALON
OF BLOOD & GUTS, THAT BONEYARD
OF DREAMS WHERE THE
EXTREMITIES OF PASSION
AND RAPTURE RUPTURE INTO AN
ABCESS, AN ABSENCE
THE DISMAL ABYSS, WHICH FOLLOWS DELIRIUM

WORLD OF WHISPERS

THIS IS FORCED UP FROM THE WORLD OF WHISPERS
WHERE TERROR AND NEGATION ARE OUT ON AN ENDLESS PROWL.
I'M JUST ATTEMPTING TO SUMMON THE MEMORY OF PRE-EPIDEMIC
EXISTENCE WHILE NURSING BRUISED IDEALS, WHICH COMBAT HUMAN
SHORTCOMINGS.

WE ARE ALL TRANSITIONAL CREATURES
WHO DESTROY OURSELVES IN SLOW MOTION.
IN OUR TERROR AND IN OUR IGNORANCE WE DO THE VERY THINGS
WHICH AGGRAVATE THE CALAMITY AND INCREASE THE DEATH RATE.

EACH FATE IS NO MORE THAN A REFRAIN
FLUTTERING AROUND A FEW BLOODSTAINS.
THE INTERVAL SEPERATING YOU FROM YOUR CORPSE
IS A SMALL STICKY WOUND.

AND NOTHING CAN KEEP YOU FROM BLEEDING
IDEAS THEMSELVES TURN RED AND ENCROACH UPON US
LIKE TUMORS IN A PHILOSOPHIOCAL STUPOR.

WE ARE MERELY PUPPETS STUFFED WITH RED JUNK
THE BLOOD'S INFERNO DROWNS THE SOUL OUT

LIFE IS THAT WHICH DECOMPOSES
AT EVERY MOMENT WITH EVERY MOVEMENT

WE ARE HERETICS OF EXISTENCE
BANISHED TO THE COMMUNITY OF THE LIVING
WHOSE SOLE VIRTUE IS TO WAIT GASPING
FOR SOMETHING, FOR ANYTHING
FOR THAT WHICH IS NOT DEATH.

SICK WITH DESIRE

SOLITARY AND CONDEMNED
TO A NIGHT THAT NEVER ENDS
INSIDE THE VIPER'S DEN
YOUR SEX AN ENDLESS THREAT
I CAN SMELL YOU FROM HERE
I CAN SMELL YOUR DESIRE

THE TYRANNY OF BLOODLUST
LAPS AT YOUR POISONED LOINS
LIKE A LEPER
WITH A TONGUE OF FIRE
I CAN SMELL YOU FROM HERE
YOU'RE MADE WEAK WITH DESIRE

EXPERT OF PERVERSIONS
AND OF CRIMINAL URGES
YOUR DAYREAMS REMAIN STAINED
WITH THE BLOOD OF SAINTS
I CAN SMELL YOU FROM HERE
YOU'RE MADE SICK WITH DESIRE
I CAN SMELL YOU FROM HERE
MAKE ME SICK WITH DESIRE

PSYCHIC ANTHROPOLOGY

AN ABSTRACT IMAGE THAT THE EYE
TRICKS THE MIND INTO BELIEVING
HAS MEANING
MY MIND IS ALWAYS TRICKING MY EYE
INTO BELIEVING THAT WHAT I SEE IN THE DARK
ACTUALLY EXISTS.
SOME SEE THIS AS EVIDENCE
OF AN EXCEPTION DESTINY.

THE RIGORS OF UNREASON
APPLIED TO INANIMATE OBJECTS

WHEN YOUR INNOCENCE HAS BEEN MURDERED
IT TURNS SPIRIT INTO MATTER

VIOLENCE & THE SACRED
KISS A SHADOW OF DESIRE

WE AS WOMEN CONCEAL
SO MUCH IN THE BODY
THAT EVERY SLIGHT TRAUMA BECOMES
AN ACT OF PRIMAL SLAUGHTER

WE AS WOMEN CONCEAL
SO MUCH IN THE BODY
THAT EVERY SLIGHT TRAUMA BECOMES
AN ACT OF RITUAL MURDER

WE AS WOMEN HAVE GOT TO LEARN TO
GET THE POISON OUT OF OUR BODIES
GET IT OUT OF OUR BODIES

VIOLENCE AND THE SACRED KISS AN OBJECT OF DESIRE
SOME SEE THIS AS EVIDENCE OF A PRICELESS DESTINY
WHEN YOUR INNOCENCE HAS BEEN MURDERED IT TURNS
SPIRIT INTO MATTER

WE AS WOMEN ARE OBSESSED WITH OUR IMAGE...
WE SHOULD BE OBSESSED WITH OUR IMAGE
WE SHOULD BE OBSESSED WITH OUR BODIES
IN THE WAY THAT I'M OBSESSED WITH MY BODY
EVERY SLIGHT IMPERFECTION IS A NEW DELICACY
I LOVE MY BODY LOVE MY BODY LOVE MY BODY
USE MY BODY
GET THE POSION OUT OF YOUR BODY

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Website last updated: November 24th, 2007