Beyond Dreams Door: 1980's Horror

If I Can't Scream How Will You Know The Agony I'm In. As Reality Folds So Does Time, But What Is It About This Feeling That Is So Familiar, Why Do I Seem To Be Reliving The Same Sequences Of Lamentation, And How Is It That The Rain Falling From The Sky Sears Through My Skin And Flesh.

a hypnotic light mandala

Is There An End To This Waking Nightmare In Which I Inhabit. One Where I Can Keep Hold Of My Identity, One Where I Can Live. However Hard I Try All I Seem To Find Is The Intoxicating Drizzle Of Cruelty And The Unblinking Eyes Of My Most Feared Adversary. The Green Pastures Promised Have Been Set Aflame, When I Meet My End I Am To Be Laid To Rest In Their Ashes. As My Skin Sheds, As My Tissue Disintegrates, As My Now Bare Bones Shine In The Light Of The Moon And The Fading Glow Of The Inferno, Will I At Last Find Peace?

Nights Grow Colder, Days Turn Dark, The Whispers Have Turned Into Screams And The Silence Of My So Called "Saviors" Is Deafening. I'll Continue Down My Path Of Destruction, Evading Deception And Shivering Through The Night In Hopes That Maybe Someone Will See That I'm Running Out Of Time.

The Serpent’s Of Yesteryear Have Returned Hungry And Vengeful, They Seek Not Only Time And Thought But Belief And Conviction. If Nothing Else Let This Be A Confession, It Will Be Known That My Betterment Lies In Self-Hatred And Self-Violence Not In The Factious Or Resistance To Memory.

Consumption Of The Soul, Of Mind And Body. Colors Scream, Echo And Suddenly Die. The Past Is Unforgiven And Unforgettable. Life Has Flashed Before My Eyes. I've Tried To Escape This All Consuming Force Grabbing And Squeezing My Tolerant Throat, To No Avail.

Heavily Distorting Footage From "Hour Of The Wolf" By Ingmar Bergman. With An Express Focus On Faces And Bodies. Hollowing And Pronouncing Facial Features And Through Repetition Of Movement, Furthering A Preexisting Horror, Creating An Intensified Alter Reality. Form, Flesh And Soul Buried In Distortion

Mirroring The Distance Between Natural Surroundings And Internal Separation. Duel Vision Within A Deepened State Of Dissociation. Nature And Psychosis Side By Side, Thinly Divided And Relentlessly Oppressive. Moments Which Could Not Last, Captured Briefly Alongside Their Reckoning.

I Don't Remember Feeling This Urge The Last Time. Usually When I Get Such An Urge I Act Upon It Unless It Continuously Screams And Burrows Inside My Head. I Don't Think There Is Any Other Way Of Stopping It? It's Getting Increasingly Difficult To Distinguish Between My Own Thoughts And Feelings And Those Enforced By My Afflictions. I Gave So Many People So Many Chances To Do What Was Necessary, But Apparently It Wasn't Enough. Think Of All That Could Have Been Spared.

The Decision Was Made, Nothing Was Ever Going To Stop It. Rebirth Comes At A Price. A Price Which Was Paid In Full , And Yet Nothing Has Changed.

The Increasing Melodic Hiss Of Inner Mechanic Malfunction Signifies The Monstrous Destruction Of What Was Presented As “Reality.” Upon Collapse And In Lieu Of Charred Flesh, The Result Of A Methodical Withdrawal Of The Hearts Bloody Essence.

Part 3 Of The Glimmered Barriers Trilogy. A Loud And Intrusive Examination Of Grief, Psychosis And Derealization. Drifting Irresolutely In The Birthing Envy Of Mystery, The Oppressive Repetitions Of A Deep Lived Disease Stealing The Hope Within. Through Three Distorted Phases Of Multicolored Awakenings, Violently Representative And Worsening With Time, Progressing Downward. Grief Surpassing Sorrow, Light Outlasting Memory, Mind Infecting Body. Shrouded In Memories Plague, Vanishing Into A Loathsome Dream, Somewhere Between A Curse And A Miracle.

A Series Of Interlocking Segments Utilizing & Distorting The Physical Form To Express Trauma, Pain & The Lasting Effects Of The Past On The Present. Taking A Directly Physical Approach In Expressing These Struggles. Freeing The Images From Their Ghosts In The Process.

Frames Of Night Lost To The Heart Closer To The Bounds Of Rhythm Wholly Translated Enclosing Holding Gaze A Hungering Search For Moments Transcended Meshes Of Refinement Unmade Together And Sealed In The Sight Of Darkness The Last Light And Trace And Ties Of The End Sound Still And Projected Upon Familiar Shadows Born Believing But Beaten Unraveled Despair Will Not Distract Sacrifice Growing Weightless Faltering Heaving Swaying Blinded But Beautiful The Old Draw Of The Fall Less Prepared But Bending Around The Corners Of Days Lived Unmade Somewhere Home Again My Light Is Failing.

ReluctanceGoneBlurredProblemsThroatSlitSalvationWornSkinPeeledWarmBladeSinksThoughtMurderDecayAndBirthCountlessEyeSecondsDieDeadRebornTearsOfBloodBounceOffEternityStrandedInStarGazesOverAndBornSilenceUntoSolitudeShieldThyVeinsSandedAndBluedSwallowedMinedMindAboveTrueAndUntruthDevouredRelatedToMessageDeadWithinCorpseCropsTravelAheadHeadedEndHarvestCalledUncodedFlyingSinkContactThroughInsomniaReportShrivelingRosesReplacedSocketEyesWithRunningFleshBurnsDreamtOnceOfCopperRustedAngelWingsSpreadAndCuredWithMoondustMayGodAndSleepBindMineDevotion. {Don’t Lose Faith In Me}

My Memory Is Not My Own. The Present Only Exists As A Memory Of The Past. I Exist In Neither.