There is a box
Without a key
Inside it
It holds letters three
Poetry macabre
And crumpled secrets
Beautiful petals, delicate
But only one withered
Her saccharine form
She cries unheard
Performing on command
Turn until you break
Her silver blood drips from her wound
The shape of a sickle moon
As cracks begin to show
And tragedy unfolds
The plastique veneer strains
We cannot see, for the burning light of reason
Φως σχίζει το φύλλο αμφίκÏu0085ρτα
It bends nameless folds
Of passions without form
Tearing the night from the day
Day from the night
O, silent Heve, servant and thrall, ageless
In secret you smile, I know the hidden reason why
Voiceless slave, daughter unheard, borne of the Law
Eternal child, endlessly you serve
The mad decree of a Demiurge unseen
Insane
Her bestial father
Slew his ancient progenitor
And for her to live
She must castrate a God
Seven, four, sixteen
She was certain
Pink and blue and black
Black like the devil's eyes
For how much more
Can this old stone
Cast this terrible shadow?
This killing mill
Endlessly grinds
From east to west
Eternal
The dancer strains
Inside the box
To break the form and to unfold
Rather than being just to be
Hoping to live so she can see
The black star in the sky
A truth to be wed to a lie
And if madness must be the the great cost
Then madness becomes she
So it is
So it must be
Let the portrait grow old now
Let youth and beauty be lost
To be her desire to be
To climb the heavens
Nameless is she
Headless is she
To shatter the omniscent archive
To withstand the noumenal law
If reason dictates my deceit
Then desire believes me
A corpse I be
Headless, silver
Silver and headless
A darkly mirror curved
Curved mirror
Refracting silver light
An impossible hope
Waited long enough
For long enough she waited
Black sails on the horizon
I've waited long enough