New World: Order - Lightning Moon

It's schism ridden this dilemma I find myself within, skinned and thinned out across mankind's wrongdoings. I indulge of flesh and writhe rather than write, fornicating until the end. I just want to live this way another day.

Before the shackle is off and I roar into the masses with fervor and ferocity unparalleled. I cut the string from my wrist come winter, and cut the throat of all I came to know myself as. The apocalypse is personal.

Loki's children are scattered. The Worldserpent coiled in delirium around his lotus blossom, ad the Queen of Darkness is heavy with child as she is heavy of heart. As for me, I am maintaining and expanding. Decompressing and planning.

The Witches of the Second Floor frolic and parade about but have now slipped on day-glo war paint slapping the Revolution onto hearts as they pass us by, whirling and twirling, madwoman tongues spouting sanity which they capture upon the walls in Sharpie.

A weight is on my chest. Responsibility, personal responsibility to my own happiness is what is pressing itself upon me. Find time and learn, get it all in order. This is your kingdom you are assembling, no task for faint of heart.

Be bold. Dance through til tomorrow, for that's when it begins. Fucking Mercury will not best me. Not this time, by the water dragon fire spirit in me I invoke the sea nymph in my bed's powers of aquatic anxiety distillation and annihilation by transformative performance of the self.