Withering with the kings, buried, but nay willing.

Seeking with the kings who stood brave, behind masks and shields.

Blazing with a fire of poisonous remains.

Settled on an idea that is unsettled in its core.

Like milk spoiled, and honey rotten.
Like meat bloodied, and mushroom dead.
Like conceptions of darkness that drift like ghosts, unwilling.

Like leaves that fall and do not bother to rise again.

...sitting in a chair, staring at the static on the TV. I laugh once and get a beer.

Words only.
Flesh only.
Mind only.
Not only that but also this.
Confusion.
Do you understand?
How can you not?
This is words only.
How can you not?
You are Flesh Only.
How can I?
We are Mind Only.

How could you?

Place The Upon Altar A Skull.
Adorn With Blood.
Chant The Words Deep In Your Heart.
Write The Words They Then Want To See.
Ritual Sacrifice.
Scream To The Stars Only The Words The Stars Would Not Judge You For.

How often I feel sadness...
Mostly rejection.
I notice I sometimes have a flight of fancy to share a side of who I truly am.
It is most often shot down.
I am then left with damage to repair.
I often feel sadness.
Lately I've felt rejection from most of the sides of the earth.
I often feel angry. I am a man after all...should I not feel rage?
When I am rejected for walking the path of self-discovery, when I enter a period of hermitage, when I enter a phase of uncertainty.
Then is it so wrong that my heart is so often set on blackness, death, and hate.
I love the light. I love the black.
The latter is just easier to hide in.
That is why I adorn myself in it.

Following the ways of the old.
Following the ways of the old.
Following the ways of the new.
Dying in the arms of the new.
Returning to the old oak grove.
Returning to the ways of the old.

Old, as in my soul...

Returning to the ways of the old.

I remove, with the power of the dark, the stones of this barren Temple.

I remove, with the power of the light, the stones of these barren halls.

I summon the Spirit of Power.

I consume Power.

I become that which is, as declared by the black void, the Greatest I Can.

I Am ALL That I Am.

I Am Always Becoming...

I shall not deny gold anymore.

I am The King.

I Remove, with the power of I, the stones of this Castle of Suffering.

In her bed.
Our Bed.
Alone.
A Land between.
A surreal junction of thoughts.

Every time I cook, I make too much smoke.
It gets in my eyes.
I think there is deeper meaning there...

...alas.