The Garden Of Unearthly Delights

Embrace...

Embrace the celebration of a lifestyle

as evidenced in the Encyclopedia of Disaster...

Panic, Trauma, Flesh and Bloodshed.

We are gathered together like the sacrifice

of small animals offering themselves up

to the Divine Savage by ways of

self-mutilation, body manipulation, psychic manifestations,

as if in Transference of the fiendish agonies

through psycho pathetic identification with something Greater...

With something Greater

which doesn't even exist except as a seductive novelty

for profoundly disturbed souls.

To reach that Mystic State

like a Plague or sacred gift

which unleashes the mechanism.

Punishment is Benediction.

Righteously putting an end to the infected mortals

parasitic existence.

Welcome to the Necropolis of Unearthly Delights...

where each new troublemaker desires a Mark of Identity

The Branding Iron, The Needle, The Noose, The Gun

All Victims declare themselves to be in Rebellion against

The Church, The State, False Virtue, Convention and Tradition

shall have placed upon their bodies,

shall have placed upon their bodies,

The Mark of the Beast, The Mark of Cain, The Designs of the Devil

Tattoos and Piercings and Brandings

Brandishing forth the confusion of insane movements

Hysterical screams, anxieties, the inevitable approach of danger

Uncontrollable gestures of terror

Fear magnetized by the violence of their own panic

Plunged into the Spiral, the Whirlpool, drawn in...

We are all falling

We are all falling

The clear sensation of Aspixia

The awareness of having struggled in vain

against the irresistible suction which swallows you up.

Sucked into the Vortex, the Vacuum.

Hanging by a thin thread.

Attacks of fever, inner devastation.

The overwhelmingly virulent clinging desperately

to the ideal of an unnamed leader

an unnamed leader

as if to suspend their Life Sentence

The Dilemma of their gradual extinction

by the logic of a Machine which devours

and forces into Quarantine.

Trussed up to trees, poles, scaffolds

beaten down by the wind in a dervish of panicked lust

commenced to steam in Flesh and Shadow

by the scornful Executioners

who've shorn every last vestige of humanity.

And with the Blood of a thousand Christs,

I wash my hands of Mercy.

Blindly hurling myself into the red hot lips of the Volcano

Thick white heat releases steam through the puncture wounds

Long, slow, hard suck

Ambushed by mouths trying to bite off more than enough too

chew on for awhile.

Being swept under

Drinking in the poison of others.

The only way out is through the Crematorium's door.

Escape is essential.

There is no seeking shelter in the empty house

of the uneasy souls

against the force of irresistible attack.

Sick victims litter the landscape.

Truth burns holes in the heads of the Undead.

The unending cries and whispers of those treated unjustly

All the lovers of forgetfulness

turn a blind eye

walk in single file

looking for a bridge

tall enough to tumble from.

LEFT WITH INCRIMINATIONS OF ALL THINGS LEFT UNDONE.

To rest in the belly of a pit where no sun will ever shine.

Stranded in an endless Valley of Unrest.

Bruised and battered in tatters, like beasts in a black bed

head bent back upon the cutting block.

In a final exorcism of Doomed Lust,

The feverish rhythms

of those who know they are condemned to die...

condemned to die, but not of old age

at the dirty hands of the immaculate whirlpool

embraced by a wicked stepsister

who cultivates the most vile and ominous attributes

of the illegal brotherhood

of the beatifically tortured bodies.