Push the blade, the most honed of steels

Draw the blood; it will stain the leather of your mien

Work, pant and burrow through

Suffocate the roar inside your throat.




Needle-point accuracy for sullen mind

Kindling for the pyre; it will rain on the leather of your demeanor

Sleep, dream and love true

Let out the joy inside your maw.




There is something that you can never think.

There is something that feasts upon you.

There is something false.

There is something right.

Let’s go and find out.


To get her.

Dalliances confound the brightest minds.

Lies heaped upon lies.

I’ve become hostile, an enemy of mine.

“Come back to me”, I call myself.

The fucker just shrugs and grins at me from the mirror.

You will never reach me. You are not me and nevermore.

Turning the tables serves a purpose profound.

It blocks out the sound.

Only words form on my lips.

I like you for what you stood for.

Wish you were here with me.

Tap on my shoulder tells me it’s time to go.

Nothing really tastes the same.

After you have visited the Abbey of Thelema.


For Aleister Crowley.

“Falsehood is invariably the child of fear in one form or another.”