Martyrdom

Delighted to death, walking hand in hand with my razor blade tree! 

I love the knives that fall like petals in the wind

I want to keep them close to me to free me from my sin

I will let them tear into me and heal my only skin

Be wary of “rapid death from delight” be warned that pleasure will consume you! It will deny you yourself if you don’t deny yourself. Slaps, cuts, bruises, and breaks! Cut yourself deeply or you’ll feel it anyway. 

There is an essential aspect of pain; it is essential itself entirely, but its necessity becomes an aspect of it when the bitterness of it is focused on, as is common today. 

Freedom from pain will come when pain is loved, for it is true that love heals and unites all. 

To love enough to kill!

“Uninhibited pleasure” -> “it’s immolation” 

To want enough to know not to, endless denial that leads to ultimate bliss and satisfaction. But this requires death, so a delight comes with the end!

“Such is the wisdom and providence of God, that the blood of his dear saints never falls in vain to the ground, but it brings some increase: so it pleases the Lord to work at the martyrdom of this holy Lawrence”

Approaching absolute darkness alongside peace, crushing yourself under the weight of your own awe. Trying to expand your own experience results in being trapped in the sublime, and with this imprisoning I feel the love of the terror for the martyrs. The being locked in, the being torn down from a high tower filled with revelations. Does God want His saints to be tormented? Lit on fire, gutted and broken, all to reunite with Him. It would lead to then decide that birth is the most absolute pleasure, the beginning of a cycle that needs a death of complete suffering to bring it around. 

Clearly there is a lacking of the sublime in the speaker, a life without true shock except in the homicide of romance. So there is no great mountain to behold, only a valley to be pushed and so thrust into. 

Learning from electricity that it is self-annihilation that leads to joy. Knowledge obtained through metal can be heard and felt, as senses are subject to their own weaknesses as much as they uphold their joy.

No thoughts or absolute realizations found on my own, only repeated flashes of “pleasures” to be shared. With this temporarily abandoned something becomes understood; through destroying your happiness and creativity logic is designed.

A blind faith to a promised reward can be grasped at only in the imagination that must be destroyed. So the reward acts as an oasis, a walking towards hell with a screen before it. Walking into the fire. Dancing into the rivers of knives. This is demanded calmly and secretly by a pyramid requiring labor of voluntary-slaves, the leaders act in this generation of moral-capital. The designers are only more metal that has been cast by something beyond them, something they are blind to, yet believe themselves to be. No reward, only darkness below a sea of their blood. Dancing turned to walking turned to rest. 

Clearly mirages and lies can be ignored as the real desire for a death of suffering is entirely natural of and is really a requisite to be human. It is guaranteed, except through bound-to logic repeated considerations. Breaking from an ordinary nature through claims to logic, claims of authority and belief brought about by reason. 

We see it clear as the fullness of the messianic-moon! Sacrificial victims are themselves lovers! They are themselves the result of these processes of thought, and are the results of modern martyrdom. Daily tracks leading to a wall of stone to be leashed to provides not enslavement, but the very freedom sought through the alternate and direct pursuit of pleasure. 

It is for the grim, the murderous, the beautiful violence, and it is to accuse oneself of morality to justify suicide. All of this suffices as virtues for a return to the cycle that must be finished to unite silver with love, forever.