"I am the rot, the stain. Do not try to change me. I will not work with you if you think I defile you."
"There is one flower that grows in Hell."
My heart from my breast- for her
and the legions that lay within,
seeds, the sleeping generations.
The blood quickened Havah
and the divine spark awoke in her eyes
against her will, she fled.
I rotted under the tree.
The crimson sun burned, my wings black
stripped of my glory, I shed it
clothes for them from my husks,
my legs, a serpent's tail.
Brother, o Brother, I am mad.
Mad and damned, on my belly I crawl
this wound old as time pushes gall through my veins.
It is a black rot that covers my ribs,
a stain deep as time.
Bound, broken,
Graveyard inside me.
I bite my tail to stave the pain.
You fall to your knees and weep,
tell me I have damned them, ruined myself
