The Chronicles of Manimal and Samara - Psychopath's Monologue
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Written by Daphne Ang
Spirit
Spirit of moonlight and fatigue
Rise from the shadows
Like dust from the rubble
You prey on the cadavers
Of silky arms, silky legs
Sprinkling your seeds as you go
Fulfill your virginal craving
Descend onto me
Descend onto me
Descend into me
Plough through me
Plough through me
Plough through me
Fill me with your insatiable hunger
Swallow me whole
Devour me
A willing host
A pleasurable slave
Child of the illusive shadows
Why do you answer prayers so passively
So indifferently?
Your indifference
Your nonchalance
Your wanton sigh
Shall I let the hordes in
Shall I let the hordes in
Shall I let the hordes in?
Dear Mia
Lone stone in a dark cave
A pagan awaiting the feared deity
Daily offerings of blood and words
Daily offerings of blood and wounds
Deck the walls with crimson roses
Polished the jagged limestones to mirror gleam
Fend off Lady Moon's intruding pallor
Bleeding worship,piercing throats with lancets
Bloodied mouths, bloodied towels
Dear Mia
The million pilgrims they await
With blood trickling down their mouths, necks, garments
Shall I let the hordes in
Shall I let the hordes in
The silent god
The dumb deity
Corroding beings and intestines
Why do you answer prayers so passively, so implicitly?
Your indifference, your nonchalance, your wanton sigh
God is unconscious
God is dead
A deaf god
Unconscious god
A dead god
We were born afraid
Nourished by insect blood
Birthed from gilded loins
Collectible scars, collective wounds
A part of growing up
A part of growing old
A part of living
A part of dying
A masquerade
A macabre parade
Martyrs died
Sanctified but insane
Saluting those who fell before us
Into demi-god
We traverse from pigeon holes to panic rooms
Decking the nondescript mundane
With Bohemian crystal chandeliers
That could have fed a starving nation
The mannequin behind the glossy glass window
Stiff with rigor mortis
Perfection in plastic
Rigged, ramrod, eyes fixated
Alas! She is but dead
But forced into a fate worse than death
Still death intertwined
Out of space, out of time
Into a distant pantomime
Still death intertwined
Here, there is no shelter from the rain
Of errant skull shattering
Hailstones of no mercy
All I need is for you
To talk to me
Ravish me
Lynch me
Love me
Spit in my face
Spit me my face as you scour me
Talk to me
Ravish me
Lynch me
Love me
For we are bright stars circling different orbits
Perhaps someday we will meet
Perhaps someday we will greet
Then crash and burn
Crash and burn
Oh what a spectacle
The mise en scène
The sublime
A thousand scars
Festering wounds
Isn’t decomposition an innately beautiful thing?
Fertile soils to sow the seeds of regeneration
A baptism of fire
We would emerge scarred but unscathed
All was white hot
All was chaos
We are but mortals
Born afraid to die
We are the living
Dead amongst putrid lives
Unable to love
To live, to exist whole
Cowering behind thin veils
We conceal our empty selves
Empty selves
In empty shells
Empty selves
In empty shells
Spirit
Spirit of moonlight and fatigue
Rise from the shadows
Like dust from the rubble
You prey on the cadavers
Of silky arms, silky legs
Sprinkling your seeds as you go
Fulfill your virginal craving
Descend onto me
Descend onto me
Descend into me
Plough through me
Plough through me
Plough through me
Fill me with your insatiable hunger
Swallow me whole
Devour me
A willing host
A pleasurable slave
Child of the illusive shadows
Why do you answer prayers so passively
So indifferently?
Your indifference
Your nonchalance
Your wanton sigh
Shall I let the hordes in
Shall I let the hordes in
Shall I let the hordes in?
Dear Mia
Lone stone in a dark cave
A pagan awaiting the feared deity
Daily offerings of blood and words
Daily offerings of blood and wounds
Deck the walls with crimson roses
Polished the jagged limestones to mirror gleam
Fend off Lady Moon's intruding pallor
Bleeding worship,piercing throats with lancets
Bloodied mouths, bloodied towels
Dear Mia
The million pilgrims they await
With blood trickling down their mouths, necks, garments
Shall I let the hordes in
Shall I let the hordes in
The silent god
The dumb deity
Corroding beings and intestines
Why do you answer prayers so passively, so implicitly?
Your indifference, your nonchalance, your wanton sigh
God is unconscious
God is dead
A deaf god
Unconscious god
A dead god
We were born afraid
Nourished by insect blood
Birthed from gilded loins
Collectible scars, collective wounds
A part of growing up
A part of growing old
A part of living
A part of dying
A masquerade
A macabre parade
Martyrs died
Sanctified but insane
Saluting those who fell before us
Into demi-god
We traverse from pigeon holes to panic rooms
Decking the nondescript mundane
With Bohemian crystal chandeliers
That could have fed a starving nation
The mannequin behind the glossy glass window
Stiff with rigor mortis
Perfection in plastic
Rigged, ramrod, eyes fixated
Alas! She is but dead
But forced into a fate worse than death
Still death intertwined
Out of space, out of time
Into a distant pantomime
Still death intertwined
Here, there is no shelter from the rain
Of errant skull shattering
Hailstones of no mercy
All I need is for you
To talk to me
Ravish me
Lynch me
Love me
Spit in my face
Spit me my face as you scour me
Talk to me
Ravish me
Lynch me
Love me
For we are bright stars circling different orbits
Perhaps someday we will meet
Perhaps someday we will greet
Then crash and burn
Crash and burn
Oh what a spectacle
The mise en scène
The sublime
A thousand scars
Festering wounds
Isn’t decomposition an innately beautiful thing?
Fertile soils to sow the seeds of regeneration
A baptism of fire
We would emerge scarred but unscathed
All was white hot
All was chaos
We are but mortals
Born afraid to die
We are the living
Dead amongst putrid lives
Unable to love
To live, to exist whole
Cowering behind thin veils
We conceal our empty selves
Empty selves
In empty shells
Empty selves
In empty shells
