Inside The Sunburnt Thoughts Of Frost

The deed is not the sin but the thought.

Slide in the aesthetics of the tempting white
Trapped beneath the laughter, insanity in disguise
Eyes controlling hands craving life - Reality
Infection injects injunction in the brains orientation.

Herdsman, hear the call of the wolves
Desultory smile of a blood-spitting mouth
Heterodoxy of a wizard's creation pray to the sands.

Have we fructified the frost with the pride?
We have failed
We have played with the totem of gods
Have we scented?

I wonder why I
Wonder
Still my "guilty"
Lets me know
I am left.

Left to leave.

Give me disease; paranoia lives within my soul
Grotesque gentility; from the depths of isolation
...Comes the speech of the tunnel's exit - Devilish.
Honesty; my only wish.

Masses of pus overcome my mind and... Grin.
They grin
Discerning the fascination of a wound
They grin
Formed from the mornings and the sin
Hiding in the shadows of the sun
...And grin.

Sheets of ice cover the nature
And the fires freeze to dust
Antarctic dreams, hieroglyphics
Scrawled into the sky. No wrath
Within my heart I know my fault
I won't survive the loss
And the paroxysm leads me into
The
Sunburnt thoughts of frost.