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LIBER PSYCHOSIS EX MACHINA
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1. Dies-Ease (Wrath)1. Removed from the ground, brought toan end forever, Severe in all her acts,disappearing adorned, Justified fordivergence, shes left Debasing all others,
Alacrity among us, shedding clothes ina feral state. 2. Alive in an excruciatinglove, a fear of her own image. Createdin her own image, infernal reminder.Evanescent struggles of enlightenment. 3.Unforgiving dreams of a stronghold onthe brink, undeviating in her council,
jaded, wretchedness so delicious itresolves intrusive insight.
4. Alight to fiery chasms draping carnalconfirmations on a promise of a lover youcreated. A youth, beaten, smilesidiotically through tears, crawling onstems of broken vessels, fails toacknowledge shame; a windsweptconfrontation in a word of love. 5. All
in all we are forever, we are never.
Psychiatric therapy disinters trampledbeings. From the outside to theoverwhelming forgotten unrelated,everlasting. 6. Do we ever have anadverse effect on the lack of remorse,the perceptiveness, its end product: theconsummation of desire, to breatheyour last breath: to repossess your soulwith a sanguine healing. 7. A rancid,fragile bloom reaches out: love. Anoxious germ of dies-ease wrathful
from birth dies. Gone, soullessdevoured a feast for the entire race
2. The Enchanting Dead1. Controlling your emotions, forgetthat for which you must kill. Keepfrom sight the midnight rages, itsprimal anger haunts you still. 2.Divide, again, divide. Ten thousand
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chanting clones, no love will purify their
hearts. Its such a common mistake, aneasy thing to fake, such a common courseto chart. 3. You try so hard to charmthe Enchanting Dead. Knowledge hidesin fear, dismissal of all that may leavethe soul exposed. Your clinging to yourfaults, fashioning the flaws, pretendingyoure the one who chose. 4. You knowno open vistas, just noisy, black-walledrooms flashing sporadic light. 5. Whyshould I try to scream, whats left to
redeem? Who you are is what youbuy. You try so hard to charm theEnchanting Dead. Youll never knowthe price youve paid.
3. Crypt-Analysis1. Surge of blood of the entire prowlingengrossment Misinformed disparagement,unequivocal floorshow. Enchanting
repository: the human race the aching
pain of preposterousness we keepinside. A world domination of theDead, squalid, distressing. Lying facedownhill in a waltz of imperfection.
2. Perforate, lick, and maulprovidences livid scars. Barrage ofbullets, a press release. Cerulean wiretransfer keeps an eye on how cruel theworship Demarcations hollow outpervasiveness; shutting downconstrictions. 3. Ornamental cryptoanarchy love in practice. Sternly deadto the world, a lying repercussion theyhowl. Blackness In the past, fewminutes revolve around a revolting
phraseology. Blackbird hunted byprickly ways to end. 4. Blessed is yourrelationship with shameful insinuationsStronghold of Deep-seated innermostindulgent circumvention. Raze to the
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ground the blackened official position.
Force release virtual discordant hold ofdefense substitute Pale vicinity gildingPseudonyms Gravestone figures.VITRIOL mega Leitrim YakimaSubstance worshippers rest Platform 1911TYRANNOUS commotion
Mortalities Figurative oratory fadesaway. 5. Opening Men with Faithlessdesigns desiccates the flesh whileabandoned manifestations twist.Overwhelmed, Recoil of a cut-throat
humanity control Hates slowness collideswith our illuminated variables Frayedrose-coloured diversion Interchangeable,Unusual axiomatic deception assassinatedimpenetrability Anarchy rogue dispatch
bomb plutonium DESCENDandrogynous Nightmare RenderingMislead Pasture gives the impression ofbeing Deep-seated murder. 6.Rehabilitation principally in perpetuityattendant to the triumphant. Breathless
Templeton Majestic LUK Cohabit
Sores arise abrade function LithelyHorrified misshapen observes by theside Of asymmetrical intermission. 7.Red chamber Clock 26 snuffle Patelpackage ISI INR. Psychosis junkiescantankerously grow aged divides
fervour at this time degenerateSanctuary SIN advisors chosenVORTEX: eradicate IN COLDBLOOD UMBRA GA!
4. Surge of Blood1. I have chosen the invisible and, tofan the flames of possession, served
perfidy and uttered its fetid moan. Idream the reawakening of mygenocide. 2. It leaps in theentanglement of this exquisite scene. Iforsake nothing; remember nothingsave what is left of prayer to reign
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disintegrating in the hours of darkness.
The prayer of spirit belongs to m, theprayer of word, of bone. 3. Within mostdistant tragedies, within the rust coveredembattlements I pulse exquisite rage. Mydisquiet affirmed your prayers. Youfantasized a presence stretching past
tomorrow. 4. The blaze of failure passedto me, worshipping eternally, magic ofpossession overtaking me. It utters theflash of my ghastly, red peace. It is laidto rest into a previous despair. 5. My
kingdom is forever with me there whereis found the final power upon the pulseof the caress of putrefaction. 6. TheHeaven of promise belongs to me.Formless isolated beings throughout theEarth and skies. Crescendo ofsubstantial scenes, extinction foundwanting. 7. Spirits shoaling till the endof time. Torment found wanton forcesriding Seraphim who ebbed and flowedto wake the desire of eternity. Stretch
the deadly master insentient like fate
out of Inferno fire with the insane.Striking, flanking, outdoing, andundoing us all. Ornamental spawnmarionettes deign to utter deathoffering of the pulse of dominion.Mirror of solitude sleeps red. 8. Guile
with veil and a wild desire sightedme to reflection in vitality. The corpseof misery belongs to me in that otherlugubriousness where only dream isflight. There where is found the
nameless encounter. 9. Love lost in theTomb of Hades teaching thick sweetofferings. Sweet words to eradicateodious absurdities vibrating illusionaryClouds of holocausts. Transmit thecaress.
Surge of discharge upholds the abstractideal. 10. You jump down and thecorpse sighs languidly. Your final
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incarnation of silhouette and sickle ends.
Lustrous infections pulse with the potentflush. Join the hollow dance to shrinkfrom cold impossibilities. Fields ofpounding cut off the pulse. 11. Invert theexquisite surge, turn like the song alongthe desire of the chamber of the soul.
Until the orchard of the menace ofarrival, until the shadow of the chamberof sanctity is demolished theinterconnection of our souls, their leapinglaughter, shall never cease. Choronzon
comprises precipitate lustre of the offering.12. Sunset of time curses the elementalbond of suffering. Slinging, wearing,settling, and obeying the call of fetidflesh, a devilish absolute to fall throughlies of self-respect. 13. Devilish crush tobreathe your last dancing in ecstasy.Hollow prayer filled atmosphere withthe catastrophe. Moreover, theprevailing conditions of the soul of
embodiment. Coming, few, nameless,
formless, I hear the menace calling.5. Crossing I-The 30th AethyrAnger gives way to a grudginggratitude. My love, my soul, Ill neversee you again. I am no more, the fiendwanders freely, ah, to be. Flagrantlydismissing all claims, I am: HA!Aumgn-ha! Towering above allreality stand I, Unquestioning, led byan infernal guide. Spinning, greetingsunlight with contempt I fall back
into corporeal extinction...
6. Asymmetrical Red Chamber
1. Until the flesh of the entanglementrent in a morbid fury, blind andingratiating, although the haunted ofthe death of force convoluted wisdomwith the confidence of erroneousnesslong-sufferingly indulged, I no longer
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fear. 2. Shadowy reflex-ion, enslaving,
potential supremacy forbids overcasttingupon the pulse of the caress ofputrefaction. Sepulchral inside, I havedecayed the vision that has fattened in adead agony. Glum have rained to haverun I was interweaving in eternal prey, I
was thrashing an illuminates mind. 3.Choronzon condemned the dog, hollowsoul of normalcy surges frighteninglywith the grief-stricken corpse of flesh, thecadaver of representation wounded in a
rotten return of disfigurement. 4. Hesighed, exposing frail Star of mandatorybeating timeless Dreamt along thechamber. Thrilled, while the conquerorin us have decried to have whispered,seed new worlds of quivering moonlitflesh. 5. They thought of me as a saviourof a kind, but I had no intention ofstopping short of destroying them. Theair seems to vibrate. The edges of allcorporeal things around me seem to
vibrate at the edges. 6. I can feel that
familiar nausea well up in me again. Ifear I may not die soon. I just wantsomething outside myself that I canremember my former self by.
6. Crossing II-The 29th Aethyr7. Justified1. Wind like a fist in the face, soundlike a kick in the chest. I haveforgotten about sleeping in the lastfifty days, trying to remember how Ihave been blessed. 2. Is mine a vitalcontribution? Am I ever to be
known? Choke my cries, blind myeyes, make it clear bring the fear, letme know let it flow; lust, rust, let itturn to dust. Now Im going home.Burn them down, one and all. How I
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loved them before the fall. 3. Lacking
grace, let me find the rage: such a quietage, dying mage, immolation, dyingembers, sleep.
Dive deep, burning need. Bring it home,the crushing blow: Gods kiss.
4. Dying happy of the waters chill,immaculate before the throne of virginalserenity, now that I see all, Choronzonscall, I see the mad-mans gaze is quitelucid after all. 5. Back to the dead, nowthat all is said, they will neverremember having been bled. Push itaway; push it away, the pleading face.6. Love lost, count the cost let themwash away in rain. Burning kiss of frost,bastard son, now undone, the heavenly
kingdom overrun. Close your eyes, partyour thighs, the Holy Fathers justified,wet seed. 7. A chilling fate, to be sure;the procreation of the common man.We have more flesh robots than we
will ever use. They have not a single
soul among them. 8. It makes mefearful, having seen their God. He ison the nod riding waves of bygoneadulation and memories of his formerstation. Can he ever be seen? Willhe ever know the flames? I prefer the
chilling fear to the warm embrace ofliving death.
8. Crossing III-the 18thAethyr1. Holy men yearning for the lake offire.
9. Ornamental Crypto-Anarchy1. Advisors, councilors, wise foolsproviding crypt-analysis, confabulatingtales of judgment, encrypting
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providentially. 2. He feeds on the bloodof his lambs through delicious rhapsodicosmosis. We die for his sins. Each daywe are reborn, clamouring night afternight to be slaughtered. 3. In lust, heswallows fire and vomits locust swarms.4. Otherwise, our corpses cease their
dance. Rancid in their dies-ease,outwardly breathing their convictions,alight with the pages they dance bright.Bereft of wisdoms respite and rages theynever quite felt.
We are distracted, never present, othermoments dim in our recall. 5. Father,baptize us in sanguine streams; lead usinto conflagration. Shiver among us;reward our evil. Bring us this moment
our eternal torment. 6. In the halls, otherplaces: delight in blasphemous embraces.Submerged in unfelt appetites, wet andenslaved by stark delights and permittedrages flaunt their lost souls. Infernal saintsand tacit mages, impassive tyrants
languish, precluding sages silenced bythe pulchritude of innocence. 7. Youare bereaved and blessed, for in yourdeath you have bound your progenyto join you.
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I lie here in a pool of my
own vomit and blood, grateful
for the hell I've just beenthrough. The death I've
always longed for eludes me
still, but her fiendish love
shall surely make my end
spectacular.
The apprehension that hadbeen in the back of my mind
since for as long as I can
remember is no longer there.
I've lost everything and
everyone and am now free.
Nothing is real, nothing
matters and I no longerexist. I rise from the
concrete floor and look
around for my gun. Not that I
am afraid they're still in
this abandoned warehouse. I
just want something outside
myself that I can remember my
former self by. The images of
the preceding night swirl
about my head as I lean
against the back of the
freight elevator. If they all
died, where did their bodies
go?
They thought of me as a
savior of a kind, but I had
no intention of stoppingshort of destroying them.
The air seems to vibrate.
The edges of all corporeal
things around me seem to
vibrate at the edges. I can
feel that familiar nausea
well up in me again. I fear
I may not die soon.
I can not quite let go of my
habit of taking comfort in
my certainty that all
existence will be over with
soon. I turn a corner to aheavily trafficked street
and am overwhelmed by my
dread at the sight of people
going about their mundane
business with apparent
acceptance. I walk into a
diner, unsure if I have any
money. The gray customers
stew silently in their slow,
silent deaths, not noticing
me and my blood and vomit
stained clothes. The room is
a living monument of flesh
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and Formica, joined in the
unseen places.
People, tables, food, and
windows all fastened together
by chemo-spiritual bonds,
without seams, breathing,
moving perfectly as if it
were actually what it
purported to be: the lie of aworld of separate things.
In my vision the substances
switch places, a woman's face
taking on the texture and
color of the vinyl stool
covers by the bar, the walls
and ceiling likewise
transforming before my eyes
into a parody of pulsing
flesh. Animate and inanimate
switch and I stand in walls
of skin and sinew surrounded
by plastic people. The bubbleof vision pops of a sudden,
and returned to the mundane I
am confronted with something
truly terrifying: That my so
called reality is in fact
incalculably more disgusting
than any nightmare. That
material objects are just
that, and that flesh isflesh, but it is the souls
of these people that have
turned to plastic. Everyone
is staring at me, at the
fool who is just standing in
the doorway looking around
with a horrified grimace...
"must be crazy, lost his
marbles, poor guy, someone
should help him, someone
should do something, look at
the blood, a trouble maker,
trying to eat and this guywalks in with blood all
over, can you believe it
honey I mean just ridiculous
really some people not
raised right
sickpervertedevildeadman-"
I have no appetite. Of
course, I'm not here to eat.
I glance about, turning my
neck this way and that. My
own putrid stench seems to
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not affect them as they
stare.
Uneasily, I dared not sit,
fearing for what they might
do. Weaponless and still
flirting with my own version
of listlessness, I stumble
in. Dancing towards death
with each moment I standthere.
I turn to go, and there she
is... I realize I don't even
know how I have come here. It
has all been such a hazy
vision, since I had lost most
of my soul already, I figure.
Why not see what's next? This
can't last that much longer.
Her voice is airless. She
speaks with such a sweet
sickness in which head simply
swims. She feeds from mymind, the images of dreams.
I go to her. She looks, if it
is possible, worse than I
feel. This is not a body
shes possessed, but a
mirror of the reigning
sickness she has gatheredinto visual form. She is a
quivering mass of confusion
and pain. This manifestation
is a sign that something is
horribly wrong. We look at
each other in silence. I
feel naked beneath her gaze;
a gaze that is questioning
and fearful.
"......last night.." I
breathe.
"Don't!"
"Where now?"
I start at her sharp intake
of breath. She laughs with
surprising openness and
looks around, seeming to be
delighted at what she sees.
"They'll never remember
having been bled. she says.
"It amazes me how he's never
sated".
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"One must admire his sense of
humor, though".
Her manner is so strange. It
is like a parody of her first
seductive approach to me. I
feel like she is holding me
off. The blond tresses are
somehow a reproach.
I dont understand the
purpose of your story, I am a
composition of disparate
beings, and so I dont
understand much of the
meaning of the games, but I
became identified with the
first part, in which the
spirit longs for death, still
I long for death(for so long
that it makes me sick). To
me, and like the Void
seekers, existence is to
suffer day after day, so allmy feelings for life are
sorrow and hatred.
I started seeking for the
devil, as a blasphemy to god.
Now here is the real
confusing business. To the
Gnostics, Yaltabaoth
(Choronzon) was the god of
the Old Testament (IHVH),
and so the creator of man.
That may be true, because
Choronzon is the maker of
form. Also when Yaltabaoth
saw the evil of his creation
caused the deluge to wipe
out the evil giants
(Nephilim) from the face of
the earth. But a man (Noah)
was warned by the god of the
sea (Neptune, Poseidon,
Enki) to build a boat to
save man from his oblivion.Also the Gnostics say that
this god of the seas was the
original serpent of Genesis,
and so the serpent became
their symbol. Its strange,
because they say the world
is evil (true) and up sidedown (true) and that the
true governor of earth is
the demiurge Yaltabaoth.
This strange man must have
been listening to the whole
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conversation. The madness in
his eyes is a comfort,
showing that my work has not
been in vain.
"So you read me, did you?" I
smile as I say this, and she
darkens visibly in my
peripheral vision.
"I probably am a character.
The author must be some kind
of nut."
She's gone. All eyes fall on
me as if I had just torn theplace apart. I back out,
feeling that it isn't time to
lose this vessel yet. I see
one moment as present, the
next only as memory. My
consciousness scattered, not
only as chaotic thoughts, buttime itself is unraveling.
My mind can't impose a
structure, such as future and
past, for more than a few
seconds at a time.
The man follows me out of
the diner, speaking to me;
it seems, from out of a
different reality. Buildings
smile from the corners of my
eyes, and then solidify into
cold, still matter when I
look at them.
Hideous figures dance,laughing silently and grimly
though refusing to be seen
directly. The mans odd
rambling about choronzon and
old testament dreams acts
like a soundtrack whispering
hints of the scene to come.Someone is hitting the cues,
and I'm afraid it's me.
Yours history vas very good
I like witchsis! he says
before running down an alley
after a feral cat as hecontinues shouting.
Cemetery Hunt on your
Ritual Abuse, a victim of
mind control looking for
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help, for a friend. We are
the test subjects: CHANGE
LOCATION!: Not everybody is
being Dog si Natas!
Without a reason I laugh
deliriously as she tries not
to emote. The trees,
steadfast, dancing guardians
hiss a lazy warning. My lovecurled in trauma aleph, Beth:
gimel, a loving attempt at
fearful murder. Anger gives
way to a grudging gratitude.
My love, my soul, Ill never
see you again.
I am no more, the fiend
wanders freely, ah, to be.
Flagrantly dismissing all
claims, I am: HA! Aumgn-ha!
Towering above all realitystand I, Unquestioning, led
by an infernal guide.
Spinning, greeting sunlight
with contempt, I say my last
farewell as a human slave.
Pathetic dance of fools,
loving, breeding, Working
towards death, I die among
them. In a fever dream,
lying senseless, I awake.
The early, dark mornings of
inspiration transpire. The
least I could do. Please the
queen, sacrifice my animal
soul, and bleed spiritually,
love my neighbor.
Free to serve my love, I
flee. The lure of flesh
sickens, the sight of bloody
angels entices.
Uh, wait a second...where
was I? I can't find my
pants. I can't find my
shoes. And I can't find my
mind....
The least I could do.
Let the stupid ones follow
me. They are everywhere, and
they are everybody. I know a
lot of you. She's gone. I
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wonder what you might think
about this: "They'll never
remember having been bled,"
she said. "It amazes me how
he's never sated." I don't
even know how I have come
here.
"...lost his marbles, poor
guy, someone should help him,someone should do something,
look at the blood..." The
room is a living monument of
flesh and Formica, joined in
the unseen places. I can not
quite let go of my habit of
taking comfort in my
certainty that all existence
will be over with soon. I can
feel that familiar nausea
well up in me again.
If they all died, where did
their bodies go? Nothing isreal, nothing matters and I
no longer exist. The death
I've always longed for eludes
me still....
Nausea. I can feel that
familiar NAUSEA well up,
etc.... I lie... They
thought of me as a savior of
a kind, but I had no
intention of stopping short
of destroying them. I fear I
may not die soon. I can not
quite let go.... People,
tables, food, and windows
all fastened together bychemospiritual bonds.
"...trying to eat and this
guy walks in with blood all
over, can you believe it
honey I mean just ridiculous
really some people not
raised right sick-perverte-
devil-dead-man-"
Of course, I'm not here to
eat. We looked at each other
in silence. She lookedaround, seemingly delighted
at what she saw. Now here is
the real confusing business.
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"I probably am a character.
The author must be some kind
of nut."
I have scars all over my body
-I have scars all over my
mind -but my soul is free and
beautiful. I was never damned
and I never needed to repent
of anything. My love, mysoul, Ill never see you
again. Back at my dank room,
the sound of indigent drunks,
drug addicts and more mental
cases coughing, laughing,
screaming at having been
born. Home. Hades forfend
having to dwell elsewhere.
Such comfort; I finally feel
alive, like I exist.
The dust-devils of thought
come to rest: back to present
time. Being homeless andinvisible is why I am still
alive. Pleasure such as this
the others shall ever deny
themselves. No power, the
abuses available being too
squalid and devoid of
glamour.
It is mid afternoon in the
homeless shelter. People are
returning from the labor
pool, bitching about paying
the driver two bucks for
transportation, bags heavy
with bottles and clothes
coated with dust from
cleaning up construction
sites.
It's a shame the doordoesn't lock. My room is
soon filled with sweaty
middle aged men, teenage
runaways and young men
showing great concern that
we know about their street
savvy. As much as I've tried
to hide, as much as I tried
to blend in with the people
around me, I can't help but
be sought after. I can see
myself as a hermit, I long
to isolate myself. To those
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I grew up with and went to
school with, I've achieved
this extremely well. Being on
the streets makes possible a
certain amount of mystery.
which arouses my interest a
round a man Framing the door.
I don't hear the bullet
peasants Dark Illuminated by
a remorseless sun almost a
circle It's finished Which
isn't much He lay there I am
undeniably suited to my
existence and the light tread
of her bare feet like
troubled water as they so
often do Look
My hands and face are covered
in blood where I usually walk
out the door. We all have our
ills.
Those who consider themselvesPowerful will always try to
emulate that power with
physical representations.
Beautiful Mockery... I can
feel it slowly peeling back
the layers. Childhood and
adulthood are all lies I
tell myself. I decide, as I
walk down the street towards
some unknown destination,
some tired Golgotha of
explanation beating. I
persist down the street all
the while being afflictedinto indifference.
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