• Swarming darkness ensues my death and the silence sinks its fangs ever so firmly. No sounds of life are heard, and yet screams of anguish roar through out the night. The fire burns bright, but dispels no light in the consuming dark, and yet it maintains form. Pain, no joy, joy courses through, but is only by caused pain! This is a memorial, no a tomb of the sleeping tyrants, sealed in blood to conceal the true beauty of the unholy.

    I cascade to the heavens, but have to climb up to hell. I give and never take, I gain and never lose. Self mutilization is bound within my heart, but my heart is gone, to be replaced by a black hole. Fragments of a broken soul are scattered through out the worlds, only to end up whole upon the alter of your disdain. I speak only lies and never speak the truth, so am I telling the truth is it all just a lie.

    The birth of life means the end of another. The requiem of truth is not purity, it is only the tainted that retain true salvations in the sanctum know as heaven, but the ones who remain pure can only find true sanctions in the abyss of hell. So speak now and never make a sound within this ensuing silence, but within the silence where no words can be heard the terrified screams still sound like cannons.

    To live is to die and to die is to live. When we die we are to be reborn back into life, but life is death, so you are reborn in to death. Upon death you achieve peace, but tranquility is the travesty to which we bestow the name chaos. When you p***k your finger upon a rose blood flows, but the heart is empty, therefore the blood does not exist. Without blood their is no life, and to which we only "live" in death, but to die is to live, say one must so to thy self, "am I living or am I dead... or, am I dead or am I living."

    The dreams of man are only images in a alternate reality, but what if you are living the dream. When you sleep you awaken, and when you awaken you sleep. Is this real? What is reality? Reality is based on fiction, and fiction is based on fact, so to you reality is fact, but fact is fiction... The truth is lies, and the lies are truths. I tell you that you are awake, when you are really dreaming, and you fall to sleep only to awaken to the reality of fictitious truths, and factual lies.

    Love... To embrace one closely and fee warmth burn inside... Love is hate and hate is love. The love that burns within is the flames of hatred which spew forth and spurn that one to which you hold. And as the ice of hatred builds encasing you in a coffin, your love grows strong. I hate you, means you love, I love you, means you hate. The heat is the cold and the cold is the heat. The summer breathes ice and the winter burns the flesh.

    Destiny is the future, but the future is the past. Your destiny plays out deciding your future, but the future is the past, so your destiny is written within your past. Your past transgressions, your past sins, mark you the tainted, mark you the forsaken. Your past as the unholy only show's that you are destined to be hated. Your past is you destiny, but your destiny is your future.

    Those locked away, destined the unholy, shall die in a blaze of fire, never to hate again with a heart full of darkness. So the "unholy" are the pure, and they will live within cold stability free to love with a heart full of light. But the reality, which is fictitious, but fiction is fact, so the truth, which are only lies, is that the pure shall live, but to live is to die and to die is to live, so the pure shall die in the cold, but the cold is nothing more than flames, so the pure die within flames never to feel love and with an empty heart, full of the light, which is nothing but the dark...

    This is the paradox... this is the truth... then again the truth is lies... Lies are fiction, fiction is fact, fact is reality, reality is life, and life is death...