I dies many times
My heart aches with illusion,
self confused by mirages
constructed in the moonlight.
My head spins on it's Axis
searching for a greener way,
playing with ideas that
reek sweetly of destruction.
A flower inspires sickness
in me. Shameless butterflies
dance deep down within the gut.
Wafting up fears of the same
stuff I yearn to be close to.
Looking mirror, spinning my
intention. Heavenly nymph
skipping on the astral plane
come sing, sing your song again.
Ruin my life I care not,
for your natural melody
haunts me wherever I go.
To embrace you I have to
die a death, hence all my fear.
Though to live, do we not have
to die a death of sorts first?
I entered this world in blood,
screaming an invocation
to the apex of my soul.
Pan played his pipes live aside
my Mothers form as she pushed
out my flesh, the great temple.
I care greatly for love, but
lust is where it all began.
We are created in 'sin'.
Pagan heaven is Christian hell.
Yes, for there is where I strive.
So fuck it, let me die.
Then I will know I'm alive.
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