Peter Greenaway takes his camera through an adjacent tri-stage setup, the cold foggy outside, the warm vibrant kitchen and the richly decked up banquet hall. While the first one displays…
Yes i am a demonAnd i fly on broomsticksWhen night closes inMy index finger pricks.Disown me if you mustDisown my shadowed soulThe umbilical cord will stillBe coiled within my hole...
The sun refuses to riseObscured by sultry rainMy blood runs darkened purpleThrough thyroxin deprived vein.A silent scream escapesThrough a half dead ventricleMy hands grope feverishly atA pack of popsicle.If only…
Deep within the dungeon cageO wait some more my silent sageRest within your cthonic denInsane desires hold, restrain.A fire-bird seeks her funeral flamesNo more to burn, but rise again...