Seal #4: Hedgehog arrives. Hedgehog arrives.

"On day 4 I persuaded the moon to land over the valley. Three offsprings of something greater, yet smaller than me and my desires, approached with masks in hand. Hideous, colorful artifacts of Titans that once were, and now are not. I approach every single one of them, only to make them smile, till they're left nude, throwing their ceremonial robes away. They have no sex at all. But I feel aroused, as I penetrate them, each one in a holy trance. And I double the excitement when I gather my semen in my palms and throw it to the sky, scattering it all around the place, the Rain that feeds the ground. The moon tells me secrets, from characters unknown. I peek at its holes, and listen to syllabes forgotten. Then I danced with the corpses of what once were the offsprings (on day 4) but now (on day 5) are only lifeless coccoons, bread to the mouths of many. I danced, and asked from the same moon to dissapear. Denial. And the Hedgehog appeared behind the valley, and everything was grey and blue, the corpses were halos full of tiny saint figures fucking each other, I was only a jackal, and my will was that of the wilderness. So I ran away, happy in my hour of denial and misery"

(Based in a dream)

Σαν κλανιά απ τον Ravana

Ιδού το λικέρ που σου γαμάει το μυαλό, στο πιο κακόφημο μπαρ της οικουμένης όλης, τη Γη: Καύσωνας, αρχιδοξύσιμο, πονοκέφαλος, Πάτρα. Ζεστό σαν γαμήσι τον Αύγουστο. Κακό τριπάρισμα δίχως την ανάγκη ψυχοτρόπων. Γραμμές και σημάδια πάσης φύσεως, μυρμήγκια στην οθόνη και στις σελίδες. Και σα να μην έφτανε αυτό, παντού τριγύρω τα κεφάλια του καριόλη του Ravana. Αν αυτός ξέρει τόσα, ώστε να χρειάζεται δέκα γαμημένα κεφάλια για να τα στεγάσει (δέκα κεφάλια! μα μπορεί κανείς να το φανταστεί;), εγώ ξέρω απλά ότι μου σπάει τα αρχίδια. Πάνω λοιπόν στο ζενίθ αυτής της ψυχολογικής μου κατηφόρας (ή ίσως όχι ψυχολογικής, μα περισσότερο οργανικής), το μόνο πράγμα για το οποίο είμαι ευγνώμων, σε Αυτούς ψηλά και Αυτούς Χαμηλά, είναι αυτό: Πάλι καλά που ο Ravana δεν έχει και δέκα κώλους. Διότι ειδάλλως η κλανιά του, που πλημμύρισε το δωμάτιο μα εγώ (τι χαρά) δε μπορώ να μυρίσω λόγω ρυνικής ανωμαλίας από την παιδική μου ηλικία, θα είχε εξοντώσει όλη τη Πάτρα. Αλλά να σου πω. Τι λέω; Ας είχε εκατό κώλους τότε, χίλιους, δυο χιλιάδες!

Έχω να φάω καλά δυο μέρες. Σήμερα καθόλου, κιόλας. Όχι ότι παραπονιέμαι, απλά ένα βοϊδοειδές σαν και του λόγου μου παθαίνει κατάθλιψη και τροφικό σύνδρομο στέρησης. Ακόμα κρατώ καλά- και δεν παραπονιέμαι, στη ζωή μου γενικά τρώω καλά. Απ το ταβάνι κρέμεται ακόμα ένας νεκρός καμαρώτος- και λέω εγώ τώρα. Τι δουλειά έχει εδώ; Τράβα, πάρε τον αδερφίστικο κώλο σου και εξαφανίσου. Μαλθακή αδερφάρα. Καμαρώτος. Πούτσες. Ο Ravana το καταδιασκεδάζει, ο γαμιόλης. Αρκετά και με δαύτον. Ό,τι δε μπορείς να το δαμάσεις, ας το κάνεις φίλο. Λέω να τον γράψω στην ΟΝΕΔ. Ή καλύτερα, στους Υπερβόρειους. Να φάμε και καναν αριστερό, να μου φύγει η ληγούρα.

Τι υπέροχα γαμημένη μέρα! Ένα κακό τριπάρισμα! Σα κλανιά από τον Ravana.

Seal #3: Hedgehog stares behind the mountains

She said she is a victim of what changes may breed,
a fatal action, a step, for what humanity will reap when it sawed nothing/

The hermits into the void, chant the words of truce
"OUR PARENTS ARE OUR VILLAGE

AND OUR VILLAGE IS OUR WOE"

Tomorrow will bring flies and pestilence as prophets

but I will still dance today, like a yezidi

for leaves and cement trumpets

She said she is a victim of what tomorrow may bring

Like ashes raised for the crows to sing
The hermits into the void, butchered from desire
chant the same words they used to mourn above the ground
"CHANT BEHIND TOMORROW
AND TOMORROW ROARS BACK AT YOU"

Tomorrow will bring ash and debris as conquistadores
But I will still remain pure and unscathed

for tears and autumn memories

She said she is a victim of what forever may decide

Consumed above the essence and cleansed by human tide

The hermits into the void, now corpses for our wedding

their echo is the same chant they used to pray at night

"WINE SONG HONEY AND FLESH

FOR OUR FUTURE WEDDINGS

WHAT I CHANT, I CONSUME EVERY DAY

AND PRAY TO THOSE THAT CARE

FOR WHAT I COULD HAVE LOST TODAY

BUT I CLUTCH TILL TOMORROW

WE BUILD A WALL AND LET THE HAMMERS FALL DOWN

ALL EQUALS THE NAIL, AND THE NAIL HITS BACK AT YOU

FOR WHAT WE CRAVE, WE DEVOUR

AND WE CHASE AWAY WITH EARTHLY DESIRES

MAY THE BLOSSOMS PROSPER
MAY THE RIVERS SING

MAY THE TREES BEAR THE FRUITS ONCE MORE

AND MAY THE BEES SPIT OUT THEIR HONEY

WITH THEIR SONG OF TRUCE.

AMEN, OR NOT

SALUTE."

Between the bees and their honey (Interlude)

Twins, they look exhausted. The bond that was once sacred, that of the sting that bites whatever moves in boiling hate towards creation, now serves as a milisecond of regret. You made a new Olympus out of broken nails and a pile of shit, and placed your tin men as deities to serve and protect the meek that fled away from the winter. Thus, you forgot the momentum of what you once needed for existence: Honey, bread, wine and song. But inside the carcass that Samson created out of the lion that breeds, a new holy marriage was born. Wine was now honey, flesh was bread, and the bees created song out of nothing. A new temple was raised, thus we were all heretics and deserved to die. Though, temples have a memory as well, and this drone that escaped the wrath of your so called emperors in their robes of truth, will breed the hammers that will tear down the walls of sin and the halo that will bear the mark of what we devour, to taste the devine once more. The Holy Cunt of the so called Whore. "Lies is life".