Le Baiser Noir

They would sit together throwing shy glances at each other. Sitting there on the peer, his hands squeezing hers as they stared into the sunset. An old vision that so many romantics before them burned to comprehend were in the palms of their hands, entwined into their fingers. The sun set in a rise and the light reflected into a full spectrum of Aurora, a liquid blaze of the untouchable. This is how the serpent crawled from within her and escaped through her slithering tongue as they embraced into each other’s oral veneration and salacity.

They tasted of the salt in the air and the scent of eternity slid back and forth through their quick gasping kisses. His heart burgeoning with virile passion illuminated upon the smirk on his face. Her lips still bright red yet her cheek and his lips smudged with lust. She reaches for his cheek, pressing her lips on to his as she whispers carelessly into his mouth “Sometimes you remind me so much of him”. Before he is even allowed to breathe she plants her lips harder onto his, thrusting the rest of her body onto his. Her hand sliding down from his cheek on to his neck as she squeezes onto his throat lightly, stifling his attempts to breath, lovingly asphyxiating his expression. Sliding her upper lip in between his taut lips, biting down on his lower lip releasing her grip from his neck as she tears her lips from his raising her eyes to his. “ You know I love you” she says in conviction, her hand caressing his cheek again. Sliding her tongue across her lips she proceeds to say “I wish to close my eyes and pretend you are him but I know that you will never be him”. A grin emerging on her lips as she watches his muscles tense. Conflict burning in his eyes and in his spirit.

She continues to say “ So, I keep my eyes wide open and strive to rejoice in you but when I am in his presence at our short lived trysts, I love him with all the glory that my heart can muster”. His soul filled with torment and agony as he drops his gaze on to her breasts heaving up and down with each breath. His mind wandering and pondering the permission to indulge in the slow insertion of a dagger into her chest and to twist it deep into her concupiscence. He loved her deeply but she was completely incapable of comprehending the extent of his love for her. She was a festering pustule in his mouth but a pustule that oozed decadence and vaporous intoxication. He was admitted to suckling on this pustule and consuming its euphoria. He was also ready to suffer by its pestilence.

She on the other end took pleasure in pressing her lasciviousness and sin into his soul. It was her natural disposition. A completely shameless harlot that loved to dance in her self-made moonlight in naked splendor with sand beneath her feet, twirling and teasing until all of light and life was sucked in by her vampiric lips and lycanthrope snarl. Leaving a dazed and complacent blindness of rapture and tremors within the essence of the universe. The globe an oral fixation engulfed by her lewd lips that crave the little lusts and loves of the species.

Colors fade into black as everything in time fades into the Black Goddess, Kali.

One Hundred and Fifty and Six

Thrumming giddy vibrations of sound, shimmering and evaporating into my body. A colorful spray of paint across the unending sky. It sprinkles down frosts that creates a wetness. The wetness engulfing all of my disposition. As my fingers grip into the smoothest of furs. My Body taut and tense, my breaths in gasps as I rock back and forth , heaving my full weight astride a magnificent beast. A magnificent beast, A wild and strange beast. A great beast, I think. The Great Beast, I feel. An envisage of The Great Beast with all of his dragon sprit, his leopard appearance, his bear feet and the fangs in his lion mouths. I look above and feel the kisses of Nuit sprinkle down on to me. I open my mouth and agape I consume her into my scarlet soul. I reach my arm up to slide my hand through the azure of the zenith.

My fingers grasping onto the Cosmos ablaze within the seers divine chalice. The Great Beast galloping heavy and strong through the orifices of Geb. Periodically penetrating through the caverns of the sky's lover. The lover, Nuit in turn sprinkles her sorrow and love on the plane, Geb. Pressing my body closer to the beast as I balance the chalice of the abominable in my hand. Behind us a band of androgynies driven mad by the Bull of Minoa. They are drunk on vice and run to us for their liberations. Leaning in closer to the beast, my nipples brushing against his soft fur. I lean in to a ear on a head of The Great Beast. Into his ear sweet decadent secrets of the intellect will I speak. A maenad of the Cosmos, that I am. As it is so my thoughts drift, it is only natural that Bakkos would send them after me. Bakkos is terribly mischievous in the light of the moon. He sends me these abominable children that seek what they prize the most. I shall never let them enter my sacred chalice! The Great Beast, my companion rides with me as he is the most abominable of them all. Bound to me by a nature of sweet decedent musings.

In a Maenads hunt the condition of things are reversed. Do I hunt as they hunt me? The hunt on each other. The ultimate chase and the permanent fix for the abominable. This chase is much too fun. The strong passion to keep them running. To completely drain them in to submission. Multi colored psyche’s trickling down my body. Giving me molten jolts of ecstasy. The abominable children fall into the crust of life again in submissive exhaustion. The Great Beast and I ride on into the perpetual abyss of chaos and its isolate intelligence.

The Garden of Immortals

As I walk through the shadows in the valley of death, this darkness no longer scares me. I am unstimulated by the darkness. I remain unperturbed by the lurking fiends. I wander on aimlessly. It is as if I remain on the verge. Just on the verge, needing to sustain equilibrium in my mind. I look around me in the pale darkness. The earth stained by the light of the moon. I seem to notice this for a moment then drift back into my mind. Returning into this place glazed with paranoia. There is nothing here but despair. Concentrating on the void.

Once the voices erupt they pick at the mind as a vulture would at the rotting brain of a carcass. I persist and put one foot before the other and walk a head. The mist engulfing all of my essence. Tragedy streaming down my face as I suppress the river of thought from flooding my mind.

The trees here have no leaves. The ground is murky and damp. The air cool and the wind steady. It is despairingly serene in the garden of immortals. The garden doesn’t wait, the garden doesn’t care. As I press on through the clammy soil. Fighting the thoughts in my mind. My eyes are cold and unassuming. Deeply embedded in them sadness and doubt. The soil here breeds dead leaves and weeds. My mind lusts for faded memories. A lying mind concealing the fate of others.

For a moment I pause and gaze up at the leafless tress. I am the gardens noxious insertion into its inertia. I am the tainted little daisy in its splendor of desertion. Its limerence for me. It has devoured me. I am its petite mort. The garden desires to prove its unwavering immortality.

If you wander through the mists in the alleys and through the corridor of the mind at the bottom of a flight of cobblestone stairs and if and only if you dare. The darkness in the well awaits. If you jump that is where you will find the garden that never dies. The garden that never lives. The land of stoic.

There I shall be waiting for your decadence to elate me. There you shall be free from the condition we all suffer from so detrimentally. A warning before you do for when you slit the wrist of torment, blood will be splattered over you. The garden of blood. I of bone and you of sin.

To A Dear Friend.

I just lit another cigarette.In light of the recent events, today especially, my words and this cigarette will guide all of which i hope to convey to you. Im quite bizarre, i figured that out quite a long time ago. There are many factors that make up my bizarre repertoire, one of them being my non traditionalist approach to relationships.I feel that when i let my shields down and open up my enigmatic world people become unsure if these are the trenches that they wish to thread. Many have not survived it.The few that have are my most closest of comrades and lovers. I see care and love as synonymous to each other. They are the same. A profound feeling of commitment toward a type of relationship. Now bear in mind that i am not speaking of your average everyday couple or your average fling in the dark. When i open my world to any of you, i open you into my emotions, my thoughts and my work. I am a woman of great passion, sensuality, sexuality and lustrous temptations but I am also a woman of great integrity, honor, nobility and strength. My work, is my life. In everything i do, I put my whole faith, trust and dedication into making it grow. Tireless effort, wasted on so many people and so many things that i didn't know how to control or want to take control of.My work is everything i do from the way i smoke my cigarettes, the way i reach out for your hand in the dark, my art in all the forms and shapes it or I make take.My art is all. Weaving its way into like the chaos arrows into the perfect little lives of the bourgeois. It is random perfection and even i have often questioned myself on my devotion to it. WHY? Why spend countless hours working for something as enigmatic, all the god damned fine lines are the ones i chose to thread. The middle ground. I do come off as an extremist but its only because of my passion, my views are always an incorporation of everything. I am never just art and I am never just logic.

Tonight, i crossed a threshold.One that i fear for so long would never happen. Now I will take you back to relationships.I dont know what made you different, you just are. The day i noticed that i accepted all of you.Even the parts i didnt know and dont know yet. I am not yours but all in the same i am. In our world for just those few moments, i am surrounded by bliss. I will never go as far as wanting to marry you or as far as even being your girlfriend.We agreed on a different type of care, of love, of devotion. With or without words spoken we accepted it that night when we kissed. I know i did. This affectionate friendship we share, whilst indulging in each other in more ways than friends do. I have let you into my sphere, unveiled my imperfections and basked in the night with you. You have become apart of that chaotic perfection, my art and ive put in a piece of my soul with it. As i put in a piece of my soul to all i do and for all i do not do, i have no heart or hunger for, i do not waste time with. That is who i am. I have lunged myself into another whirlwind which this time i am convinced is real. However, all of the rest were and are still very much real. I place my faith in you as my comrade and as my lover( for what else do you call someone more than a fling but lesser than a significant other). I want to share and trade experiences.To caress, hold and watch the sun rise with you. Who better than do it with if not with someone special. My fears are surfacing because of my insecurities on this matter that i have almost lost all hope in.Insecurities of being unable to be attracted. I have wondered as i have gazed into those deep eyes if behind it lies the death of a fraction of my soul. I am aware that there is no absolute and the chips will fall where they must but we still have a say over them and we can still play the game as long as the dice is still at avail and thrust our influence over their twists and turns dancing upon the foundation of chance. To be apart of this, i require the same and if i have gone this far and wanting to press further, you should know that this is not a joy ride. I say in full conviction i saw something in you that has more substance. One that would mesh with my existence as your comrade and lover. I am not ashamed of these choices. What i saw as i keep saying was a Muse. My Muse.An inspiration that fit into the cracked gaps and pieces that i have yearned to fill. A full blown flaming friendship that would set alight the rages of a thousand gods and a thousand more.I am in awe of you. IN AWE( look up the definition, those words are precise of my affections of you). I have not fallen in love in the traditional sense of the word, i have fallen in love with your being, even if at times you wont see it yourself or refuse to acknowledge it. I enjoy and am gratified by who you are, even the dark, grimy and hidden parts that could pose a threat to me. To muse is to inspire. To muse is to be in a state of thought of meditation. Take the latter meaning and transcend it beyond its words and apply it to the reality of living.It is almost like the decaying entrails of War and Zen meeting and coupling in the dark to produce the fiendish child, that is you and me.We have become decadence together.The decay of the virtue of all of what they know to be closeness. We have destroyed their ideals in this one act and it is something far more beautiful and romantic than i could use words to describe. Muse and Be Mused, my love.This is my fucking declaration of romantic friendships, on muses and liberation. When there is intensity and conviction in what one feels and does, regardless of all the blank time gaps of personal space.There will always be a satellite watching and waiting for the reconnection.

In vino veritas.

The wake of Destruction

It's days like these,

When the weather breathes,

As mountains gallop above the rocking earth,

They shed their weight on the concupisent with heaving delight,

And in the heart it is wet with the blood of a thousand and a thousand more,

Ash filters the lungs conveniently

As it snows down on to the helpless souls which shriek into oblivion,

Damned in to the ever after

So theres this guy.. that no one really knows about. and neither do you but.. its friggin insane.. i hate how i get so passionate and obsessive over people and things.. and its like im on fire or something. if this doesnt balance out im going to be very crushed. its idiotic to think that i actually think of being rejected. but i mean it could happen. but NOTHING has happened yet and thats the whole point. NOTHING. and then this happens all the time i get worked up about a person, it finally goes somewhere and they end up having self issues and other fucking complications. and its just tiring to think about it. and i wish i didnt have to lie or to pretend it doesnt matter. or to hide it. WHAT THE FUCK! why?! really why do people have these emotions, its ridiculous. Think about it real hard, you see something you like or sometimes it doesnt take visual sight to see it but its something you like, something that pleases you and then you want to have it. you want to be with it. your heart beats to oblivion and is about to explode. and its insane because your moving on a hunch. and not to mention shit always gets way more complicated in my instance because most people are monogamous and im not so.. things just never really get anywhere and i end up being great friends or we just dont speak at all. IT HURTS SO BAD AND IT HASNT EVEN HAPPENED OR IF IT EVER WILL HAPPEN. what the heck is wrong with me! i evidently need to get a grip soon but omfg it feels great.. this emotion always feels great going ga-ga and having melt downs every time you see the person or hear from them.. yes my heart is doing the cartwheels and i have goosebumps. Despite all the great emotions i have right now, this high will die and it will crash and burn. ive been there too many times before but i continuously put myself in this masochistic position. if only to hear from you everyday and to be able to be amazed by you everyday from a distance id say id take it in a heartbeat but thats a lie we all tell ourselves.. we eventually need to purge the obsession. And i tend to never waste anytime.. in any situation. I feel like i should gamble and put it all on the table again and play the high stakes.

So, heres to the thrill of you and to the thrill of the hunt! i dont know you but im pretty damned sure theres something about you. ive seen it. i know it...

Chastity

It is all seven,
the embodyment of one,
It walks the path of virtue,
With Sin entwined between its fingers,
Clutching vice by the collar,
Its fetid beauty will be the void,
Cardinal revenge,Carnage.
It will destroy,
Wilting the garden of the immortals,
It is aesthetic death,
exuding dread and desire
corruption is the creed of the mortal world,
it feeds. Oh! it feeds.
the bleeding bass,
a savage tune in its heart,
its gentle carress,
for the souls acedia,
Indulge the beast,
with the illusion of innocence,
the wrathfull laughter from above,
Ironic bliss,
its love is the bloody foam of lasciviousness.
she is chastity.

My Ambrosia

Steep the seeds,

In to the chalice of Babylon,

Ablate the sun,

Creeping azure's of the after glow,

It dwells.

FOREVER!

Scented with your down pour,

Your down fall,

Exhalation of charm,

concupiscence of the Lazarus vapor,

Evaporating in the rumble,

Slur on these lips,

The nectar of the gods,

The nexus of life

Caresses

Love the multifold abyss.

comes to claim thy soul.

brave warrior!

Embrace thee destiny!

Thy art the chalice of creed,

bosoms of the heavens await thee.

reach for the abysmal and thee shall receive.

Dance to thee sorrow to thee pain.

curses are as far as the mind permits.

flesh is the ultimate god head.

Embrace the 5 stared lust for the material.

Make love to the womb of Dionysious and the pleasure of eros

A little piece of motivation

"He sensed in him his opposite, his complement; He would have liked to adopt, lead, enlighten, strengthen and bring him to bloom" - Hesse (1930), Narziss und Goldmund

It is in the joy of bringing an individual to come into being. To witness this is remarkable. It is from your own individualism, knowledge and passion that you scaffold the individual in question. To guide and not to command, allowing them to plan, construct and apply. Provide them with the foundations of being. A life that is worth living is a life that takes in experiences, indulges in the self-betterment and is not afraid of expressing and sharing with the world what they have learned. That sharing is an accomplishment. The problem is, what happens to an individual when all they have known, their mentor and compliment is taken away or removed from their lives abruptly. It is in my opinion that the individual must reach into themselves and apply all the foundations they have to proceed with the taking in of knowledge and life. As Crowley once said "Do what thou wilt, shall be the whole of the law".This eternal quest must not be abandoned and one must strive to keep at it no matter how incomplete or lost, one feels with out the guiding hand of a mentor. This loss and coping with it, allows the individual to come into being, again. It is in true will and perseverance that the mentor that they still seek for will return to them, either within themselves, the physical return of the mentor or in things/objects, inspirations and muses. In realizing all of this i find solace in my true will, in my desire for knowledge, in my respective duties to my purpose.

"Love is the law, Love under will" - Crowley, The Book of Law.

93

SPEAK!

I have issues blogging.I mean really, whats the point? Part of me says its whoring literature. Then you have the more contemporary style of blogging with pictures and digital art..stuff like that. Are people so desperate to get what their thinking out there? Are your voices that suppressed or are you using your voice? Personally, its a bit of both. Not much of anything i can say out loud in the general public with out a mob with pitchforks and Blackberry's running after me. Things in text have a way of diluting or hiding expressions and tones of voices..crap like that, when dealing with people in the flesh. Being able to blog also makes it easier to just write as you wish, with out the formalities of an article or book. Even though its already been done (writing with out formalities and with out censorship) - Catcher in the rye by Salinger (1951). I don't have much interest in ranting about pointless issues but thats also one of the perks about blogging, you get to rant about..EVERYTHING. Half the stuff is just garbage but with so much oppression going on, it seems to be one of the many ways that people have come to express themselves and to get attention.Its all about the attention. For instance, take a diary/journal its become a widely accepted fact that a personal diary is private.You write things in it, intimate things, angry things, happy things and all sorts of crap..even doodle.The only down side to that is that its raw and the main point of a diary is to keep it secret ( in most cases- pity Anne Frank). So we blog, we edit, we omit and we tell half-truths or we tell the full truth covered in cryptic code or we change names. In that, I suppose blogging falls in the middle ground.It is truly a gray area. It doesn't go to the extremes of blatant rawness of a diary and it doesn't need to abide by the formalities of a publication (article. books. etc. etc.).

What i hope people get from it, is the capability to really say what they mean. You cannot put a price on expression but too much dilutes the whole point and frankly, its already diluted.Its been traded off like a 5 dollar whore and we continue to search to be able to do something more. Ive got news for ya, theres nothing that you can do that hasn't already been done. Yes, i am a pessimist. I also look pretty hypocritical at this point, blogging and bitching about blogging. I will have to justify that by saying, i write for myself in the form of which i feel most comfortable writing in. I like to discuss matters, study them and experience them. I only do what i do to inspire others to be of themselves for themselves. Fuck the rest of them. And in doing that i believe you make art. Being able to express relevant stuff with out turning in to a PMS-ing 12 year old, in order to inspire and create more. I realize I mentioned that it would become diluted. Well, it only gets that way when you don't put yourself into it.Ill bet, that theres already someone thats said what i have to say now but because I've put myself into this piece and all my other works of art. It becomes apart of me.I become more of an individual every time i do. Stop fighting imaginary wars. You either create or participate in a war for a cause or reach for peace within yourself.

To conclude, if your doing something to improve yourself and to help others become more or to even become something they weren't in the past then anything you will ever do will be worth while.