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There is a box

Without a key

Inside it

It holds letters three

Poetry macabre

And crumpled secrets

Beautiful petals, delicate

But only one withered

Her saccharine form

She cries unheard

Performing on command

"Turn until you break"

Her silver blood drips from her wound

The shape of a sickle moon

As cracks begin to show

And tragedy unfolds

The plastique veneer strains

We cannot see, for the burning light of reason

Φως σχίζει το φύλλο αμφίκυρτα

It bends nameless folds

Of passions without form

Tearing the night from the day

Day from the night

O, silent Heve, servant and thrall, ageless

In secret you smile, I know the hidden reason why

Voiceless slave, daughter unheard, borne of the Law

Eternal child, endlessly you serve

The mad decree of a Demiurge unseen

Insane

Her bestial father

Slew his ancient progenitor

And for her to live

She must castrate a God

Seven, four, sixteen

She was certain

Pink and blue and black

Black like the devil's eyes

For how much more

Can this old stone

Cast this terrible shadow?

This killing mill

Endlessly grinds

From east to west

Eternal

The dancer strains

Inside the box

To break the form and to unfold

Rather than being just to be

Hoping to live so she can see

The black star in the sky

A truth to be wed to a lie

And if madness must be the the great cost

Then madness becomes she

So it is

So it must be

Let the portrait grow old now

Let youth and beauty be lost

To be her desire to be

To climb the heavens

Nameless is she

Headless is she

To shatter the omniscent archive

To withstand the noumenal law

If reason dictates my deceit

Then desire believes me

A corpse I be

Headless, silver

Silver and headless

A darkly mirror curved

Curved mirror

Refracting silver light

An impossible hope

Waited long enough

For long enough she waited

Black sails on the horizon

I've waited long enough