Enter Suicidal Angels;



How hungry have we become;

Like animals naked in shame

Fed with the hooves of apocalypse

that galloped down, disordered

worlds behind



From word to a word I was led to

a word

that spanned over cultures in rage



Crimson masses, steeped in decadence

holding our tongues to the thirsty

sun

So, is the future still open?

Then enter, hornet, from our hive-dark

hearts

to draw down the end from within



We need not the horns

that emanate from our warty, haunted

bodies



Nihilist, Hedon

the priceless art of their lives

Sorrow is a wing laid atop their

heads.

Skin deep, we carve our immeasurable

sorrow

in the fold of your shivering arms



Hedon,

Your children wild

and filled with death



Jupiter in our unforgiving eyes;

a pandemonium of bodies and gold

Eager, as a part of your face

and the sickness attached to your

skin (stone)

as the wine-rush,

chargin from androgynous wombs

to open free the lid of pain



Hedon,

rinsed in post-human shadows

a monument scorned by the teeth

of time

Stale-faced keeper of secrets,

leaded with implosive fire

the whore that carried the apostle

to the mating point on the graves

of giants



We look at you, afraid

to see what we really are.