In heaps they were
The dead stacked high
I crept and sang among them
Black was i, yet bent to it;
God and i had shunned them
It fell at my feet
No!
It didn't just come to me to heal its wounds
I will kiss it
It is within me now.
I feel the birth of doom
And the fruit of my body,
Stares right out of this room
The Manuscript
The Manuscript
Roads
The Stance Of Evander Sinque
The Isis Script
The Light at the End of the World
I Am The Bloody Earth
The Sexuality Of Bereavement
The Distance, Busy With Shadows
The Grief Of Age
The Wreckage Of My Flesh
The Prize Of Beauty
The Snow In My Hand
The Old Earth
The Burning Coast Of Regnum Italicum
The Lies I Sire
The Deepest Of All Hearts
Vanité Triomphante
The Scarlet Garden
The Whore, The Cook And The Mother