It frightens me to know I can never be rid of you, After a year, you [still] stir something in me. The hate has faded but the disgust remains,
I recall when only warmth and acceptance filled your eyes.
..the city has not felt the same since.
I never really told you what you had meant to me, Ere my lungs met the ire of your voracious mouth. So now I walk alone through the ashes of our ties, My mind flooding with memories of endless summer drives.
But some things are better left unsaid.
3. The Middle Goes Down
[And] snow falls as to bury what we had. Everything we left behind.
And the snow still heaping on this broken back, I am lost within its persistence. You took the meaning from this withered soul, I have no strength without your touch.
LOST! This love for you is all I know! WEAKNESS! Will the spring’s warmth never come?
A little child crying from the bunk below. I still love you, I won’t cut that tie from my life. Love born in regret? <. >our blight carved into stone? The stone that lines my heart.. I wish I never loved you.
And any other embrace will just turn into shit In the shadow of our former love; I’d trade a bloody wrist to live forever in those nights But the deed hath still been done.
Hath still been done.
The deed hath still been done.
7 abandoned years thwart all affection, A million whispered lies push fingernails into my palms.
And I will never give again (give again), Have you have forsaken any faith I had in you (I had in you) And all the love I had for you.
I am reborn, baptized in flame, Clean of your deceitful looming. Friends are beneath me; I can’t face this pain again. I’ll die alone, but at least I’ll know who loves me.
I am a shadow of myself, pent up in walls of human shit, Annihilating anything that bears your name, I am a hollowed wooden shell, made strong by that which I abhor, Committing only to creating your demise.
5. (And The Chorus Sang) A Dead Refrain
Skyscrapers are crumbling, mountains move in my path, The streets lights are twisting, pulling me to the earth. My veins are anchored in this city, I am defeated by this lack of conviction!
Where is the truth in my existence When I have been cut off from your tender fingertips, All that I’ve known falls down around me, Every twisting tree and dead end street reminding me of you.
Taking me back. ..a year..
crawls on without you, Amongst the endless snowing sheets. Disheartening moments of salvation come to me Only when I am asleep.
I no longer stomach the denial, Hiding the weakness of my being, The day to day has been a slow blur since you left, Only forgiveness sets me free..
The bridges collapsing, hillsides are growing fast, The pavement is shifting, quicksand controls my will. I question life and its true meaning, I am defeated by this feebleness of will.
Frenzied thoughts arrest my mind As I descend towards my eminent destruction, The only thing I can rely on When I lie even to myself..
Skyscrapers are crumbling, mountains are closing in my path, The streets lights are twisting, pulling me to the earth. My veins are anchored in this city, I am defeated by this lack of conviction.
Am i already dead? I proceed hollow unloved. I am our burnt out memory, self mutilation is my mainstay.
Tear me away from the pictures of your face, Pry my eyes from your written word, Tear me away from the bondage of regret, Convince me that I am alive!
I kneel, godless and beaten. I long for moments when my eyes aren’t blinded by emptiness.
6. Burning The Hive
I’ll miss the friendship that we once shared As you ignite all that which made us strong.
The fires of envy blaze undying as this devotion is destroyed, I watch our dreams reduce to ash, throat stifled by the fumes. The stench of brittle feelings burning wets my tender eyes with tear, Our memories are the funeral pyre, and your words are gasoline.
«Do whatever makes you happy, no holds barred.» — shall remain etched into my mind (into my mind).
Literature / What A Horrible Night To Have A Curse
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What A Horrible Night To Have A Curse is a Short Story collection by Christopher Veidt that takes place in the same universe as The Dogs novels. Its title is a conscious and loving homage to its famous source.
Similar to, but even more so than, The Dogs, the stories in What A Horrible Night To Have A Curse maintain as its central theme the idea that mankind, divorced from nature in the modern world, occasionally glimpses a strange hidden world which myth, legend, ghost story, and conspiracy only hint at. What happens when someone encounters this second world varies, but often end with them becoming a part of it. as a new, beastly being. The stories are almost always heavily erotic in nature, with a strong emphasis on teratophilia in the sense of being attracted to actual mythical monsters. Many of the monsters are taken directly from Mountain Folklore and elements of Appalachian or Southern imagery.
All of the stories are interconnected, and serve to form a bigger picture of the universe that The Dogs takes place in, although sometimes the connections are not readily apparent and are only given subtle hints.
Although a print version has been in the works since like 2014 or something, the stories have recently been restored to Veidt’s SoFurry account.
(It should go without saying that, this being in the The Dogs universe and outright stated to be «erotic horror,» the majority of these stories are extremely Not Safe for Work.)
The stories are, in reverse chronological order starting in an In-Universe date of 2013, are:
Additionally, there are two stories that will only be available in the print version:
What a horrible night to have a curse откуда
The Binding of Isaac
That’s from Zelda 2 you big palooka
Also, you should try C III before insulting, ok?
That’s from Zelda 2 you big palooka
Also, you should try C III before insulting, ok?
Also, you should try C III before insulting, ok?
Where is it in Castlevania III then? (Also, if you’re offended by the term palooka then you truly are one)
Does anyone but me understand this reference?
Where is it in Castlevania III then? (Also, if you’re offended by the term palooka then you truly are one)
falling in a trap so easily, you’re proud in fact :awakesheep:
falling in a trap so easily, you’re proud in fact
Care to explain? Or are you gonna cop-out?
Care to explain? Or are you gonna cop-out?
no explanation for brainlesses
Текст песни What A Horrible Night To Have A Curse (The Black Dahlia Murder) с переводом
This twisted wretched place shadowed by the utmost darks of hell
in dreams of black beyond the bounds of a withered witch»s spell
where the doors surely are locked when the sun threatens to wane
where shamblers dwell in dim moon light beyond the warmth of day
liars line the roads at dawn watchful eyes are upon you held
sacred weapons to the sacred revealed to be unleashed upon the council of hell
blood flows down the streets at night where wolves cry out for flesh
where a horrible curse taints the woodlands nearby with the forms of the
unholy inversion of hope twisting the faith of the meek into hate
driven insane by the dark one to bring forth the foul biddings he speaks
the undead are among us at dawn they shrink back to their silken beds
they dance by night and drink the blood of a child»s broken neck
his spires are growing taller still their shadows stretching throughout the land
freeing the evils that sleep within the weaker minds of man
into the tower never go the horrors multiply
gears can mince the strongest ones leaving heroes paralyzed
the rivers flow with poison the sands swallow you whol
the ghouls that roam this darkened wood are thirsting for your throat
Перевод песни What A Horrible Night To Have A Curse
кровь течет по ночным улицам, где волки взывают о плоти,
где ужасное проклятие портит лесные угодья рядом с формами
нечестивая инверсия надежды, скручивающая веру кротких в ненависть, сведенную с ума темным, чтобы вызвать грязные торги, он говорит, что нежить среди нас на рассвете, они сжимаются обратно в свои шелковые кровати, они танцуют ночью и пьют кровь ребенка, его сломанная шея, его шпили растут все выше, их тени простираются по всей земле, освобождая зло, которое спит в слабых умах человека, в башню, никогда не идут ужасы, умноженные на шестеренки, могут прорезать сильнейшие реки, оставляя парализованных ядовитых Песков, которые вы глотаете. бродят по этому темному дереву жаждут твоего горла.
This twisted wretched place Shadowed by the utmost darks of hell In dreams of black beyond the bounds Of a withered witch’s spell
Where the doors surely are locked When the sun threatens to wane Where shamblers dwell in dim moonlight Beyond the warmth of day
Liars line the roads at dawn Watchful eyes are upon you held Sacred weapons to the sacred reavealed To be unleashed upon the council of hell
Blood flows down the streets at night Where wolves cry out for flesh Where a horrible curse taints the woodlands nearby With the forms of the walking dead
Unholy inversion of hope twisting the faith of the meek into hate Driven insane by the dark one to bring forth the foul biddings he speaks The undead are among us at dawn they shrink back to their silken beds They dance by night and drink the blood of a child’s broken neck
His spires are growing taller Still their shadows stretching throughout the land Freeing the evils that sleep within the weaker minds of man
Into the tower never go the horrors multiply Gears can mince the strongest Ones leaving heroes paralyzed The rivers flow with poison The sands swallow you whole The ghouls that roam this darkened wood Are thirsting for your throat
Unholy inversion of hope twisting the faith of the meek into hate Driven insane by the dark one to bring forth the foul biddings he speaks The undead are among us at dawn they shrink back to their silken beds They dance by night and drink the blood of a child’s broken neck
His spires are growing taller Still their shadows stretching throughout the land Freeing the evils that sleep within the weaker minds of man
Это витая несчастный место Омрачены крайних темные ада В мечтах о черном за пределы Из заклинания иссохшей ведьмы
Кровь течет по улицам в ночное время Где волки взывают к плоти Где ужасное проклятие портит лесистые местности неподалеку С формами ходячих мертвецов
Тьма инверсия надежды извилистой веру кротких в ненависть С ума по темным родить фол Торги Он говорит Нежить среди нас на рассвете они сжимаются обратно в свои шелковые кроватями Они танцуют по ночам и пить кровь сломанной шеей ребенка
Тьма инверсия надежды извилистой веру кротких в ненависть С ума по темным родить фол Торги Он говорит Нежить среди нас на рассвете они сжимаются обратно в свои шелковые кроватями Они танцуют по ночам и пить кровь сломанной шеей ребенка
in the sense of being attracted to actual mythical monsters. Many of the monsters are taken directly from Mountain Folklore and elements of Appalachian or Southern imagery.
