The Black Kabbalah



We trace the patterns in the bits of shattered stones, in front of me. We see him and twist his mind. He has loved and this thing is our Iron Key to manipulate and make them suffer. His past lovers destroy him, strap him to the bed and give him the ‘sapping of will’ to make sense of his life now. We press on all sides and my Brothers whisper, the sounds cracked and alien and the air rattles over the dust encrusted throats not used for two thousand years.

Esch Ferh” The whispers said in the language from beyond the Abyss. “Bring Fire”


It was said that Satan himself asked to see this place so that he may learn of the things we make and the construction of them so he himself may build one and enjoy the suffering of the ignorant. It is also said that at the doors of the Prison he stopped and reached out his hand to touch the lock and he touched it not but withdrew his hand a little. He pursed his beautiful lips it was said and a black tear fell from his eye.“I have never mocked my Father as this does”. The words of Satan whipped by the bitter wind. swept away by the bitter cold wind.


In the corner of the White Room a woman, Black haired, Blue eyed, the steep whore, red lipstick and the Blackest of Latex for the Blackest of Places, the White Room. She minced with her sharp instruments, the pullers, the gougers and the twisters. Her eyes were black pits, she didn’t scare me. I was only scared of something else, I couldn’t remember what it was. I loved it for a minute and was lost. I hear the water splash on her body, I see the rivulets and the drenched sex of her. I hold my head and try to shut away the madness I feel slipping into me like it always has. I feel but am resigned, like the lost and the shuttered in. But I know when the singing and talking has finished, what she does with those hands on her body. She cannot help it, she has a hunger for this life.


He saw Abyss and stood alone upon the edge of it, his toes over the edge his heels implanted upon the scrubby grass, his eyes ahead searching for the other side. She made noise, he could feel her naked breasts in his hand, he let his thumbs gently touch her nipples, just the tips and she laid her head back and groaned words he could not understand. He slid inside of her, lost for a second, intent and wounded with a love. 

She smiled closer and I leaned in and just probed those cherry lips apart with my tongue and for a moment, in the Sunny afternoon, with the House at my back I drank her in. We found somewhere quiet and fucked in the grass. A she reached her climax underneath her head crept a Strawberry beetle and she grabbed my wrist and placed my hand at her throat, to squeeze. Her hips bounced against me as I held her tight. Later as she smoked a cigarette and lay in the flattened grass naked she told me stories of her life and I instantly forgot them but for a moment when she pointed to the West and laughed.


In simpler days it might have worked but in these strange times the only thing that loves also hurts the worse


I enter her from behind and she wakes slowly and softly to press back when I am in her fully and draws away when I pull out, rhythmic and lost she fills herself with fucking her body graceful as she accepts the offering, the unveiling of the love. This thing we do as your soft flesh scrapes against my legs, this thing you give me, lost in Pethidine, lost in fucking such an innocent woman, my filth and depravity knows no ends….and the Demons sit upon the headboard in a row like Crows on a telephone wire and they laugh and point as I fuck her and tears unseen I cry for her as they giggle. Twisted around my fingers a single black hair. But in my shattered mind I sing a song.


She does a tiny shiver break and her orgasm glistens and her system revealed. Two great golden wings faint but true she is a holy Angel in masturbation. I write the numbers and try to figure the deal as her fingers work angry and furious. The Calamity and terror of her sexual act is from heaven full of tears and sorrow but the record is done. The poem written. This I cry for you and for your sins. I hold her throat tight, and look to heaven.


The Master came to a stop a little away from them and said, “We rattle as beans within a can, forgotten for a while, ignorant and casked. File away the events of your lives, here within him. Castigate the Young with tales of woe.” A bright ball was thrown towards us and rolled to the foot of the Master who ignored it. “Put Ghosts in clouds, in shadows. His hand never stops to gather rest, his robe swirls and passes the test.” Happy he gazes towards the sky. “He never fears for you or I. I can feel them pick me up, the arms of Angels to take me back to sleep”.


Should I show you a cut vein to bring you to heat? Her love splashed my tongue as it traces words of Magic, the three lovers, four seats to the left, and twenty three to the right.

The swell of her abdomen is beautiful as Porcelain, dotted with the occasional blemish, patina and I close my eyes as the horizon swallows the sun. A hidden gasp as her self obliterates and births a star that explodes in her body and every ray a joy as her hips rise and we couple, lost. Every node is a Spartan pleasure as she peaks these fingers of mine ache and offer a subtle pain her eyes through the mask plead, and I sink the needle in. Take a breath. A deep one.


The snow outside was wicked cold as we stood on the doorstep and we kissed, your gown fell open and you were naked in the street icy air. I pinched your nipple hard and put my fingers in you and you were red hot…me, I. 

I would creep behind you at the window as you looked out at the garden your hands in the soapy water and would put my hands under your shirt, tease a nipple, cup your breast and my other hand in your crotch damp. You would taste its wetness with my fingers down your throat. You are still sore from last night but you like the pain as you have to get to the far edge, to see what’s underneath.


The facet believed that even on tender nights, we still hold that last breath in the pit of the stomach and metabolise the oxygen in the lungs, Then at orgasm reach for the gas place, breath kitten, the subtle bow of sparkled light as breath feeds the blood. Pumping hard fucker, cold breath at fucking orgasm. One breath and the mask goes on again. This awful thing taped and bound holds the fear and ask why the simple vapid gasp, as the world falls away.

The Evoked have come to play and I bite your nipple hard. I cant hear what you are saying as the lines intersect. So I stick my cock in you and fuck you like a bastard you dirty fucking slut and wonder what they did, how they did it and why. I place my head in the center of the circle and close my eyes. My fingers bleed and drop their blood onto the floor. The concrete is cool on my head. This filth of his drains me. I have no clue of what inspires us to it. I lean back and can hear the sleeping screaming deep within the prison, they screamed so high pitched it was like a train whistle.


Comments are closed.