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In the darkness of her chambers, ever lost and ever aimless.
Beauty in the dark is nothing, in daylight hours, watched or watching.
Endless pairs of eyes a gazing, on her empty pains of fading.
Trapped inside her youthful beauty, she’s ensnared, forever bleeding
Where we all fall.
. .
He gazes through her high windows, on a ladder, through the willows. .
Sees a sign that she is waiting, gorgeous vacancy, though fading. .
Dead inside her empty lowings; in soft degrees of eider pillows, .
Guarding her own cursed beauty. Falling off a face he can’t see
Quoth the eyeless man:
Almost now. Almost yes. Almost maybe,
Quoth he, Almost never have I ever seen such beauty in my mind.
For my eyes were never any, seeing few among the many.
And is there any misery, for me to be, for me to find?
For anything that men can see, for things that are, but cannot be?
There, will we all fall?
?
Watch his ladder as it tumbles, falling at the words she mumbles. ?
Men who see my beauty, battle hopeless, empty, endless battles ?
They struggle well, struggle inward. ?
Her words are heard through glass so warm.
He’s lost and low and freezing cold. His face is frozen white as snow.
The eyeless man at her window smells the vial on her pillow
Poison label, burned her bedding, tasting tastes that cannot be said
No one sees her tossing vials, upon her face, upon her smiles
Hopes to ruin the beauty seen by your empty eyes.
And there, we all fall.
.
The vile vial acid burns her mask, her neck, her beauty turns .
From kitty-cat to girl-next-door, face to the sky, mouth open wide .
She’s melting down quite slow it seems, as if she’s trapped inside a dream.
The pain is funny, so she laughs, the eyeless man’s behind her back
Nice long legs in starched white tunic, skinny waist, almost ironic
Her face has now become her scar. Her countenance is quite bizarre:
No eyes, no mouth, no nose to smell, there’s blood that floods her face as well.
Her face is sad, a face of scar, with the air of an abattoir
Her blood will fall. .
Eyeless man steps through the doorway, silhouetted in the hallway .
He listens down the corridor, he hears more and more and more and .
Feels his way down the slickened hall, It might not be a hall at all! !
He runs, dragging fingers along, It might be just all wrong, all wrong
a dying song.
He arrives inside her chambers, strokes her face of fading embers
Hardly now, no! hardly never, ever longing ever severed.
She is lost and never ending, in her scars of beauty bending
The eyeless man, he can perceive, the crawling gullies deep beneath.
Her monstrous slab of mind so drab, now covered by a graceless scab
A pretty mouth and pretty hair, a pretty here, a pretty there;
In the wells of pain and sorrow, in her hopes of no tomorrow
No bucket drops nor stops to drink, nor asks the pretty girl to think.
We’re falling.
.
His hands caress like trem’bling stars, her acid flesh and crum’bling scars .
Then, he hears a rum’bling footfall, sounds through screams and fiery walls .
Melted, fragile agony, she falls, he lifts her high and they all call .
Catch them or die! or string ‘em up, or one last time or kill the slut!
And so they run into the night, carrying screaming heart’s delight
For in the arms of love they flee, from the hateful hatred, set free
Devils creep ‘round dreamless dreamers, carry scythes and holy tinctures
In the depths of ancient terrors, endless blunders, faults, and errors
all
will
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Villagers crossing fields of mud, seeking vengeance, seeking blood
Men and women and children sprint, and bend tall grass past branches bent.
The man of no eyes speaks his mind: We must just leave these worlds behind,
And seek out ill, forgotten realms, where all are ugly, and all are blind.
So, take my hand, my dearest love, kill or killed, enough is enough.
Sighs and hides behind her disguise, her scars of beauty t
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But not ours, no!; ours will not look, not obey, nor go by a book
Pages unbent and never read, buried in questions left unsaid.
Villagers destroy their scapegoats. Someone to blame their game upon.
The uglies are the likeliest then, and when they run, whip crack,
the sexiest fall hardest.
The torches pound upon her door, screaming out, Leave our town, you whore!
The faceless woman, the eyeless man, bolt the doors and they run for the cellar,
Hoping to leave behind those fires, to find that void without desires
No face, no eyes, no place, no lies, no sighs nor cries, nor space, nor hate
They penetrate into her house, with stomping feet and dripping mouths
Citizens sound like the hounds on hunt, baying and barking, Kill the cunt!
Ours stumble and tumble down the stairs, into the darkness of her lair
They reach a very special spot, where darkness is and light is not.
We choose to fall
A hole that’s black and bottomless, deep and spilling with hollowness
Let’s get inside, in here we’ll hide, the eyeless man assures his bride
Her tear ducts are crusted, cracking, no blinking, no eyelids, nothing
Only scars, scabs, and slabs of flesh. We’ll go we’ll have a rest.
inside,
Yes, yes, quoth her, yes, take our rest, let’s forget the sting of unrest.
Outside the racket builds a riot, deep inside the hole they’re quiet.
The house will die, the ugly rise. Finding ugly realms without surprise.
Where we fall, the place we are, in place of a face, of a face of scar
This is a world nearly falling.
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