My desperate apprentice, look not with your eyes. Fix your sight within.
“We can see, we can see.”
When the weight of the world that’s so captivating tempted to break my bones and return me to dust...
I’ll never die by the claws of the great big eater. I died in black to be free of fear. It’s what makes my bones weak with a sickness incurable.
Indian laughter. Gold dust from the moth’s back. The old ones and their eyes shone right through the issues. It’s your importance that has made you blind. Is it your body, or is it your fucking mind?
We must bow to our majesty.
The infernal voice has spoken: “The dead speak to my empty soul.”
The flood has raised and the game is over. I move on and on and now no one knows.
In short, of the filthy sweep of the undertow, a memory sense of beings low drowning just to hear those notes. They keep me close. The choirs of beings low are singing:
“Sorceress in the Devil’s cloak.”
Goes to show I’m my own fucking foe.
What is written in blood while the beings sink me in?
There's a cut where you used to be. That's the most of our story, now there's no one left.
It empties me.
It goes to show that the first is never enough.
The swell is deep, and it’s starting to take me in.
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