Lust

Lust
No poetry
No dance through the night
Only sucking out the last drop of life in a lie
Bending back
Imagening
An earthquacke
An opening of the surface
And I’m climbing inside
Of his walls
Of his dreams
Seeing beautiful things
I can’t find in myself

What am I without this escape
The terms don’t apply
The mind can’t relate
It’s lust
It’s a fog
That later will become
A wordless anger
Against a wordless strangler

I can feel it coming closer, I can smell it in the wind. Hidden behind beautiful colors it’s practicing it’s sin. At first it feels so pure. Rain and rivers washing through our bodies. Dreams, hopes, it’s an illusion. The black worms has not left my bones, and they will poison you.


I put feathers in my hair, I pretend I’m not there. I breath in circles around the issues, I move slowly with it, I sing loud, so that you can hear it: How much I want to feel it. I know the rythm, I know the melody, I know how to make you breath heavily. It’s an illusion. The black worms has not left my bones, and they will poison you.

We are layers layers layers, answers from the past. Echoes from something that didn’t last. Never fresh meat. Never unwalked paths. I’m reaching towards an unknown star. Glimpses of reality near yet far. Lay your body down with closed eyes, face to the ground, and sink into the soil. Enter another world, enter the void.

Inside of my layers I see time moving in trees, lakes, rivers and clouds. For every grey hair on my head I know I’m a little more dead. I am disappearing. The arrow points in the wrong direction. Stop. Time. Now now now now now. I am not. So I seek out. Into the vast machinery.

Greed

Black worms winds around the skeleton. Give me release you ugly son of a bitch. I’m not good enough. For what? I don’t know, I’m just not good enough. I want to be liquid floating through the veins of easy. No disturbance, no light, no air, no need.

You’re so clean on the outside, do you feel like that on the inside too? Are your viscera wearing make-up? It probably is. You’re probably as perfect as it seems. This is no scam, I’m having pure perfectness in front of me here. I bet your shit is colored pink and that it smells like roses. Fuck you.