Master of his own nightmares will swallow
your defenseless souls. And your dreams are his dreams; they are open for him. He is the
consumer of your fears. His face is morbid one by ghost, similar to web, it will swaddle
your mind blinded by insane gaze, and drag you away into abyss of his endless madness.
Only his voice will laugh scoffingly above the grave of the buried alive in himself.
Forever lost in the other world of yourself, you’ll never be back to the world of
The Dante’s Inferno in its own beauty,
- and you are walking around all its circles. Angels are singing Requiem for you, and
ominous voice by Lucifer - hell’s thunder – is clasping you to the bloodless ground.
The World of Chaos and the harmony from beyond… Gothic castle on the border of the abyss
– insane heaven over it ripped apart by flourish of lightning, - it is the only thing
you’re seeing before you’ll be dissolved in this chaos.
Penetrating your spirit melancholy has
stretched over night forests, and star sky has reflected in mirror of lakes. Burning
candles and wineglasses on the table are evoking nostalgia on last times, when people
lived with harmony of themselves.
Space abyss, in which your soul is lost
like a grain of sand in the desert. Maelstroms of chaos and the Universe insane in rage:
what it gives birth, it gives back: for that its will is. Stars like candles die away
under breath of Demiurge.
Sadness, which turns into melancholy,
where the souls is lost in itself. Silent cold room, lifeless body covered by plaid.
Feeble words full of bitter taste; fury being suppressed inside by (vain) efforts of the
spirit; comprehension of senselessness of existence, - but there’s a hope it’s only
the state and everything will be changed.
Messengers of the ancient battles, real
and invented heroes (they are themselves real and invented). Worlds shuddered under
countless wars. Universes, full of dark magnificence. Rays of stars reflected from the
blade of sword. What can stop threatening gait of these warriors walking on modern world,
on souls – in the other dimensions? Only death on the battlefield with diurnal life.
Step of the arrogant master of the chaos
on the gone wild space. Fury of voice of his soul is the penetrating one. Odious
personality unpredictable in his behavior, but monumental in his majesty, obscures the
whole mediocrity, faintheartedness, and throws down to his foot. Only his mercy saves your
powerless souls from being treaded down. And you are being hid in his shadow from
The defunct gods turned the world into
state of chaos, - they gave their souls to the irretrievable future. Their somber quaint
existence pierces your self. You don’t sleep at night plunging into the abyss of their
feelings, which became yours and demand way out – on through you.
The deity Quorthon in his states – from
dark satanic holocaust to pompous viking singings, to grunge fooling about. Those things
are in him plainly. How sincerely he does it all – all he wants to, - spitting on public
opinion: the little god – handicraftsman - individualist in his workshop.
From northern coldness to eastern
estrangement – the gradual immersion into the world of psychedelic images, when reality
steps back baring the hard ground of the dreams. Snake-like divinity of the strange beauty
and drawing solitude: divinity throwing down its skin of odd past in the doors of the even
odder future. Fragrance is mixing with smoke of opium. Transparent stars are shining in
the dusk of your soul. One more step into the unknown.
Semi-darkness of the room, windows are
drawn the curtain, through which forest are saw dimly. Rustles behind the door. Squeak of
the boards under feet, intricate shadows on the walls, mysterious life behind them.
Particular smell… maybe hemp… - sometimes it recalls a ward being spread behind
horizon thanks to imagination’s whim. Life in twilight, unhealthily white hands weaving
recondite patterns in the air
Broken cosmic space, dimensions turned
inside out, chaotic state invaded into the system of compromise. Turned out astrophysics,
nuclear decay of personality, black planets got away from their orbits by the blast of
gone mad star. Burned out microchips, the yell drown in the vacuum, space grinning its
teeth. Madness of technology, split consciousness up… the all are inside of you, and you
can’t escape from it by means of throwing away your own intellect into the open space.
The nature is various, and sounds, which
are stamped in us, are immeasurable, like the nature itself. Rest and pain, melancholy and
ecstasy… The branches are being bend under rush of wind: alone with the nature you are
changing. And left cities are overgrown with grass.
Dark Gothic Art
Dark Mood Literature
Arven's Dragon World
Gloomyworld by Justaman
Kabinet der Sinne
The Dark Art of A. Bateman
Penza Unix Users Group
Copyright (c) 1999 Dominius
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