Behind Invisible Weapons

Close your eyes. And repeat after me…

Belief is strange. It has a magical quality that can completely transform reality if you buy into it. It’s so strange that if we’re told something enough times we might grow to adopt it as “Truth.” Even if that “Truth” is actually an invisible weapon disguised to hurt you.

Life inherently has no meaning. Any meaning that we attach to life begins first as a thing created by the mind. Therefore, any meaning that we ascribe to the world in front of us is first derived from the one we cannot see.

When we are young, we live like immortals. Bathing in the ignorance of youth. Waiting for time to never end, we are bewildered by the possibilities that the tomorrow might bring.

What feels good? Everything that doesn’t hurt. Until everything that is good hurts you.

In the end, everyone leaves. This is reality. Believe in free will or do not. Are you awaited in Hell? Or will you rot away below the earth without a care? Are you destined for greatness? Or do you carve your own path? In the end, everyone leaves. This is reality.

Behind Invisible Weapons

Poisonous Please

Sweet snowy rain

I hear you rumble–

Breathe upon me

Until the moon has failed

And shattered every heaven

Out of itself, out of herSelf

Until the moon has failed

And the fires of Her bleeding stop.

Covered fully, still covered

An eyeless wingless winged angel weeps

No process, devouring every clock.

I tear away at my scalp

Ripping out each hair together

Wrapped around my wrist

A halo and a rope

What does it take to let go?

Do I tear the hanged man away

From the caring or the apathy?

Or do I offer him

The poison of the pleased?

They used to say all the things to me

That hinged on early Victory.


Forget the old emanations.

Swirling above in hotel suites

Far above the stars.

Poisonous Please

Remember When

Reanimate cognition

And bring yourSelf into new fire

Return to suffer

Without limbs! Without fever!

Climb out onto the dusty rings of Saturn

And reanimate cognition


Without limbs! Without fever!

There I heard the secret words:

“NOSTOS!” She whispered.

“ALGOS!” He cried.

Were the good times then?

If only I had known while I wasn’t living it.

Remember When


Twist the nails out of the fingers and bones,

Cold beyond remedy

The Alien theatres of the Second Age

Tear me away from the bleeding eyes

In the everyday, I step into new oblivions!


I am filtered inward

Speak not of what was created

But what was maintained!

Far removed from the Grandfather’s chime

A tick—constricted through biology

Platitudes lie…

I’ve forgotten the tiny measures

And half step into a new oblivion

Every night…

I shed my skin, I shed my skin! I shed it!

Before the fires

A towering spear am I,

So far from the moonbeams

So far from the light.

The Living Dog breathes not the breath of free will

Automatic it rains

Oceans of Devil’s wire


I am smeared into the winds of a final Saturn.

Looking for his monument

I turn my back to all the names!

And pierce the daystar

As a false moon.

My mind shares no true belief

In the lunacy of flesh

In the lunacy of flesh…

My mind shares no true belief.


The Fifth Eclipse 

In all directions, I see mountains. And beyond those mountains exist the Great Darkness. Nothingness. Abstraction. Time moving forward, dragging its rusted body across the dimensions in a spiral. Every minute inevitibility comes more and more into focus. What does it mean to End? I gorge on the Never, bringing into being a renewal of sacrifice. My subconscious, a conduit, digests that which lies on the other side of the black towering Eclipse. My first deed, created out of the earth like a disfigured shape wrapped in decay, engulfs the whole of the earth in flaming fire.

Yes, I am willing to forget myself for myself. Sacrificing the who I was for the who I am to be.

The walls do weep the saddest shade of red wailing for relief to shine the light of divinity elsewhere. Their shadows creep towards the pinnacle strangling every rose that dare bloom in the absent sun.

O HOLY, HOLY, HOLY is she who raises the glass of invention. Her flesh a vessel to be shed–motionless and Dead.

Raise up your beleaguered body from the ashes of the old, for there exist no gods without imperfection, the means to create, and the ability to recognize that even the future can be reshaped and disfigured in the image of We.

Hard is the heart of fate. And every tribute? A feast for the hand of Me.

The Fifth Eclipse 

Born on top of the giant wave

Seventy miles,

And seventy more!

I fight the coast with my feet

Where I stand to cease

Kissing the wind with my face.

The daystar bruises,

The sea it sprawls

With every stroke–leverage.

With every word a fight.

Hookers are delightful in red,

A crown of flowers

The shallow stage

And a boy who calls himself Holofernes.

I don’t care much that it smells of death

Hold the corpse up!

The deathier the better!

For ideals–

My life–worth chasing!

This feast, no Rome, no God!

Pardon me like John the Baptist

A wartorn Goliath melting in the sand.


Born on top of the giant wave

The Day I Left


It has been so long…

In this bed of rust I have lain.

No flowers to wreathe my beauty–

I drowned in tears and barb-wire dreams.


How the snow melting sands–scorch my heart.

Melt my eyes.

Blast my skin.

Is that the Sun I hear? So far away!

I love when the vultures circle–all at once.

My seven mouths–how they sweat!

O so delicious! Feathers and all.

The Day I Left