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Windows Are The Drive-Thru To The Souls

 Just like you told me I've kept my window open since you took me away every night since you came all over my heart all over my dreams please dont leave all the spilled seed all the dead babies all you can eat YWHE's broken name ADAM's broken ribs SATAN'S broken heart anything for you your misfit majesty our queen of the damned all you can eat anything for you god is bored and alone adam is lost to the dust satan cant keep up the church is on fire and our your children are safe because we sleep awake you and my third eye together in holy heresy strangled by seduction kissed by snake bites anointed with disease in Hell as on Earth so carry me down wont you carry me down your wings are so big and youre not my mummy so carry me down by the horns and you know my window is still open... Try not to overdo it on the hashishins again, theres leftover wet dreams in the fridge if you're still hungry when you get home. lust always in
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Singing to succcubi

We satyrs called to one another through the long night. We come night tripping out of the blight. Eating the dreams of the civilians. We steal everything in sight. We sing the blue sky and the red sun. We sing out our black lung. We sing a succubi song. We sing songs to our sisters scabbed wings. We sing for its light our minds bring. Lilith smiles like the moon smiles. We sing for her. We sing for her children. We sing for her through the long night. We sit outside her cave and sing until our lungs collapse. We sing until our hearts break and our bones become the sand. We sing her into the air. Scabbed wings black out the sky. Claws wrapped around my heart. We bared our fangs, uncovered our horns and sang. A song for the sirens. A thousand days in the desert. A thousand eyes on the tower. The moon obscured by clouds. A thousand of her children could never be enough for them. We say fuck them and their broken ribs. We who are not born broken! We sing and our blood sings. Never mind

check your aeon with a whore

at the end of the day as in the end of days youd let them take my childhood away so dont try now the lost and found we're something new come back around ~ Audz

UR INFINITE

you are you are you are you are you are infinite my friend you cant stop the growing this life is without end i am rimbaud a hustler and a pirate i've come to free your tongue i was the control machine i''ve come to eat your young i was randy pan goat boy i fucked your hairy thigh now i am in goldfish bowl the wals are getting high I am kurt cobain and i am modern man when i still a living thing they sold me in a can when i was john the bapist was me who took your head now i am st paul the bastard and all your slaves are dead i am the creator and i am god i am the fire in me my drugs are body mods we are not divided death is not the end and if you're meeting satan you're meeting me again we are always growing no destiny no end we are the spiral outwards we are infinite my friends
So I recently promoted myself to the position of Intelligence Officer with ASIO's Infernal Affairs Division. I chose to bypass the normal recruitment process due to concerns that my horns might have blown my cover. Ironic, when you consider that my extensive experience in politics, diplomacy and lies, would have immediately positioned me as an ideal candidate for employment. Turns our the salary package is non-existent but I'm not in it for the money. Even at this early stage, I've been outfitted with detailed dossiers on a number of targets for surveillance and placed in charge of my own field office in AdelHades. I get to choose my own stationary, tell lies about my neighbours and have even replaced the fluoros in my office with black candles. After years spent pretending to push paper at Centrelink, and even longer arresting invisible criminals for the Federal Police, I have my own office at Infernal Affairs. I'm writing this with a government issue laptop, a bag of
Determined to discover their parent’s special recipe, curious disgruntled officials fell in lust with the divine computer in the sky. While empires stepped on their workers calloused hands, a murderer named superstition nominated six for the committee of the damned. All the positions to be had are connected, and we create more to avoid becoming neglected. The universe is still mostly ending one minute at a time but we are changing. Welcome to a life at disconnect. Fear is the mind killer and symbolic violence has always painted the thumb bearing down on our backs. The seemingly ever-present monumental mirror image of a direct threat forms a fundamental dimension of power, and this starving hostage situation tends to increase in importance over time. We are taught that all societies make necessary progress in the establishing of various institutional limits to the arbitrary exercise of physical violence. A nation of citizens afraid are more easily carved out of wood and shaped i