Ygg Huur

What choice have we but to worship the sun, Else the idolatry of beauty and the myths of transformation For a life already laden with every species of failure? A grasping hand is cracked and leathery to the tough; a voice Cries not to be abandoned

A final mirage enchants Blood engulfs the eves Wending through the cycles of mania 1,000 tiny ropes drag a body to the ground The canvas of the dream a filthy, tattered rag The gods gigantic in power Swing after swing of the iron axe Shoreline conflagration as I take a last look Exile through wastes of ocean Last flames that engulfed my world

Breath of life and cloud Black clouds which obscure And devour celestial beings Cosmic feast Dizzy from all forms of blood Beast god man All screaming Agony in collective ignorance Called upon by thyself Thyself being a part of all life In the sickness Quarantined in pure paranoia

There remain no monuments To our vanity No cenotaphs To subsumed glory Buried by the weight of years We fashioned fate from the tyranny Of thought And the failure of noble intent The failure of noble intent And the great river of our blood roars in protest. Tributaries swallowed by the Grim god of silence The god of silence Relentlessly we wove the skeins Heedless of our doom Lashing to our lives The promise of failure And I will build within myself A monument of flagellation I will silence my tongue And sacrifice myself to the empty vault of the firmament

[Part 1 "Separation"] Humming separately away Left inward with untrained process Towards separation From the path that bleeds towards creation Persistence of the morose Murder thy kingdom of ash Self deceivingly stretched upon nails A forceless act Science is a god A tool like all gods [Part 2 "The Guiding"] Connectivity to the open sky Beholding the kingdom of earth Strangling in vines Crawling through life's incessance Insect messiah, body and blood Mutual sustenance Human blood on rotting leaves

Clot and freeze Into fetid venous ropes A groaning pulsing mesh of shackles Engrams overlay anew, day of Ashura, flagellant march, To mock our impotent cries to bind And now this bed is a tomb And home's threshold gives only a sinking chill Because no matter what, it ends this way With me taking your body to the fire