All the Catholics on the Anniversary lie,
Eating Satan's eggs that fall from the sky.
Pull Jesus out of an egg,
To remind yourself that you'll never die!

Plucked the wings off a wounded bird,
That fell from a nest.
Planted fur and gave it rabbit feet,
It was so grateful that it oviposited gifts.

I saw Satan wearing a bunny costume.
He came around midnight and laid some eggs.
If the children rise and miss them,
We will go and cook the nest.

Come to the alter,
Bring a ****** flower,
To be deflowered by the sun.
When we see them again,
The flowers will bring their children,
To the festival of the Anniversary Sun!

Rabbit's mating beneath the Anniversary Sun!
Remembering the death of the Moon's son!

The goddess's son dies,
and lives again.
A ****** blossom bleeds,
And gives him new skin.

Come on everybody it is time to celebrate!
The rebirth of our king!

Sniff a bible verse off of a pagan god's chest.
Hang a devil from the top of a Christmas tree.
A Christmas ghost takes you back to the past.
It is not so bad with Christian imagery.

Come on everybody it is time to celebrate!
The birthday of our king!

Remember when you were happy
Even if for a couple of weeks
It might never come back
My mind and my heart shrieks

Only when I'm not myself
Do I feel accepted
Only when I'm somewhere else
Do I not feel neglected

The diseased sees no cure
The end I might never reach
One day my heart might be pure
Stop this, this incessant screech

Long have I climbed
But the way upwards is bent
One thing I have is Time
On these steps of Torment

The fact of the matter is I'm lost. The dense infinite sea has all the power over me. I go where the wind takes me. There is life all around me, yet I'm all alone. I had people back home, but all of them stayed as I set sail into the mist. I'm cold. The only comfort I have is, that I will inevetably come across some sort of land, somewhere I can take refuge, somewhere I feel safe and warm. Warmth. It's all I need right now.
I write to let my mind express itself and to keep my sanity. Of which I have not a lot left. Had I any to begin with? Why must I suffer. Why must anyone? I don't know if suffering together with someone would ease the pain, or would it simply multiply it. Only time will tell. I hope, I think.
Not knowing is manditory.
That is all I have left.
Soon i might know.
If only because of some miracle, the promiseland finds me.
The bottle, the one I set out into the emptiness, hoping it will find the one I sent it to, and return her to me.
I might never know. Know that feeling.
I might never feel again. Im starting to lose it.
I never learned how to sail.
Thought it comes naturally. I could, but it is keeping me from it. This. This one, that is both a blessing and a curse. The one, who promised me the confession will reach it's goal. How will it know the goal, when even I don't? Empty promises. Just like they promised to help me.
What did I expect

The ocean was once filled with crowns.
It will tell you all about it
If you sit still long enough,
But you never do.
You see, it saw those children with their frowns
and their struggle to commit
To a world that treats them rough,
yet rarely rewards virtue.

The waves then went out to distribute
Their gifts among those in need,
So that their innocence may scatter
and be spread.
To this day they break as a tribute,
Go watch them while you bleed.
In a moment you don't matter,
you'll sense a weight upon your head.

Am i blind? What is this? Why have the gods forsaken me? Wait, I see a light. Within the light I see only dark. Where am I? I wake. Thousands of shivers run down my spine as I rise up towards the source. I am alone. The light seems to be moving, does it want me to follow it? The ground beneath me is soft, almost sand like. I follow the light, why is it so dark?
It seems like hours have passed, but time is irrelevant in the eternal darkness, it seems. Even the source is dark, only less dark than it's surroundings. I tire. I reach toward the heavens in prayer, for that is all I have left. No answer. The light beckons. Millions of thoughts run through my mind. Am I dead? Is this limbo? Or purgatory? I shake. I do not even remember who I am. How did I get here? Weird, I don't feel like I'm dead. I still feel pain in my legs and my body from my journey. I pinch myself, what sort of horrible nightmare is this? The pinch hurts. I am sweating. Wake up! I shout, as I bang my head against my hands. It's no use. The only comfort I have, is the presence of this entity, that for some reason is leading me into what seems like oblivion. I become more and more weary of it, yet I'm drawn to it. It is my only hope. But first I must rest. Both my body and mind. Feels like most of the journey is ahead of me. I can't give up. Not now. I fear I will be consumed. It's as if something is watching me, I can almost hear it's breathing. The incessent silence feels louder and louder. It hurts no longer.

The bird is just a stone's throw away
I don't have a stone.
The bird flew astray
Now I'm all alone.

I hear a cry
The distance is great inbetween.
Still it might be worth a try
A better throw I've never seen.

Where it went I still don't know
Was it the one that cried?
Where it came from, down below?
It lay just as I lied.

One dead bird, it wasn't me
There is no longer a distant bellow.
The greatest throw you'll ever see
There is no longer a distant hollow.

We are puppets in this show,
And nobody knows what lies below,
But everyone assumes they know what's above,
There lies the God of creation and love.
But how can I be sure he hasn't fell?
Well only continuing this miserable existence called time will tell

the emergency of life
the spot lit fight
vigorous
apparent
the thrashing of the harvest
in the threshing of our night cares
sew what you mourn
in the blot of the moon

it’s all a swallow
one gross reactive swallow

your time perception
is gourded
your feelers
are fluence and torted

everything’s fun today
the sun spills the sun today
all fur is on end
all eyes are refreshed
fleshing mirrors
absurding the observed
playing with mother’s scissors
dog sugar dog sugar
attend to the worlds genitals
re-open The Eden for business
and theatre