The Pain Of Necessity

from en cyklus af fortabelse og skabelse by Ruins Of Yith

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Tears scorch my face, burning cascading lines into my drawn flesh. I don’t weep from the pain, but from the necessity. Answers had eluded me for too long, adding undue and unfair misery to my sentence. Who would fault me for taking matters into my own hands?
With my heart in my hand, I watch in awe. Empathy and humanity pump from it. Arcing streams shower me in the essence of foreign memories foreign. But now I don’t care. I no longer grieve for what it is I can’t recall. A blessing in this place is still a sin unchanged by circumstance.
The beating of my heart slows; the crimson remnants of understanding and compassion—lost or forgotten—spiral into nothingness at my feet. The walls of my hellish cell are closing in on me… Or am I outgrowing my confines?
I’m transcending. Flesh molds and reforms, stretching and popping. My heart! It refills with life. It absorbs all the hate and blackness and vitriol of this place, churning it into sludge that thickens and expands. I’m engorged on the sensation. Pain and release. Real pain. It’s all I know. All I desire. And I want to share this euphoria with the world.

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from en cyklus af fortabelse og skabelse, released January 28, 2020

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Ruins Of Yith Ohio

A couple musicains and a writer imagining the apocalypse

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