Demon Myself

I’m here wandering – I’m here inside myself
I’m the misanthrope watching – I see everything as my own Hell
                    Bleeding drop by drop – I’m filling
I whisper to my own – But I’m deaf to all but death
All alone – I’m beyond wrath or past
                    A knife in the heart – I’m killing

Stained delight – Red’s the colour
Just one more time – And then another
                    Everything’s upside down – I’m gone
Just one step – To the edge of rage
Just one single step – To get out of this cage
                    And claim the killer’s crown – It’s done

Beyond mortal man – Where do I stand
Ain’t no limits – No consequences
                    Just my victorious sin
I’m a demon myself – A predator out of its shell
They know my acts – But not my name
                    They just go where I’ve already been

Evil – So near
                    Light by sight
Chaos – So clear
                    Near’s the night
Hunger – Fed with fear
                    I rejoice while they die
Agony – Pain I don’t hear
                    My laughter’s higher than their cries

I will do it again and again – Without regret
It’s my sacred mission – To extinguish Man’s race
                    Peaceful death – Denied
They don’t know where to look – I’m everywhere
Nocturnal calmness is my hook – I’m their despair
                    I shall last – Accursed

“Demon Myself”
António Eryx Santos
04:32/15-08-1996
Funchal – Ilha da Madeira

The Dark is My Friend

You may take my life
But you never can take my pride
You may even take my eyes
But I’ll never be the blind
                    I’m alone
                    And I don’t know where I’ve been
My anger means nothing to you
You always condemn me whatever I do
I’m jailed to your dreams, it’s true
In your mists I wander as yourselves too
                    I’m so alone
                    And the dark is my only friend

Your dirty fingers bitter my soul
And your selfish voice tells me where to go
Promising respect and pleasures eternal
If I submit to the foolish rules of your world
                    I fear
                    Not being ourselves is the real sin
Smiling, you give me lies I don’t want to be
You won’t rest until you put me on my knees
Your cynicism is the sickness existence has given me
Salvation and freedom are too far for me to see
                    It’s so clear
                    The dark is my only friend

I fear, I despair
I twist but you don’t care
I’m in a path whose end I can’t find
Your patented minds point mine to be blind
                    The dark is my only friend
He greets me, he conforts me
In it I’m everything I dream to be
The hero, the victim, the evil one
He keeps my thoughts when I’m gone
                    The dark is my only true friend

Where have I been
What have I seen
What have I heard
In the dark of my room
                    In the dark that has been my only friend

You won’t master my hatred
I’d rather be doomed than caged
I’m myself but you don’t dare to know
You just wait my walls to blow
                    The dark is my only friend…

“The Dark is My Friend”
António Eryx Santos
00:26/16-08-1996
Funchal – Ilha da Madeira

Chronicles of The Deceased

Disbelief emanates from the pestilent flesh
It’s released the soft seed of corruption
Souls trapped inside rotten remnants
Decomposition spreads… Erased miscreants

Chronicles of the deceased… Transmuted heat into frost
Scared inward… Warped ego… Incorporeal is the host
Betrayed hard… Punished it goes… Shattered
Laments from the vortex… Tired are the lost

Agonising soul digging life in each cell
Inside a darkened dead corpse
As an ethereal worm inside himself
Empty exhumation… Faint glory
Frustrated spirit ruled by instinct
Posthumous tears… Tainted memory

“It’s so silent here… There’s no place in Nowhere…
My body’s gone with time… I’m dead… I’m alone with my past…
I’m wandering… Lost… In the cold dark of Death…”

Paralyzing fear… Through the unknown into somewhere
The fluid of miracle’s dry… Wrath… A blood shadow to cast
Echo’s vanishing… Death… Cruel and endless test

Threaten sanity… Dislodged from reality
Mental crypt filled with nausea
Memory fades quick into oblivion
Soul + Body… Integrity’s compromised

No immortality… Obsessed… Dwell in lethargy
Denied triumph… Torment and tragedy
Resignation to no return… Seance’s the key
Beyond the veil… Chronicles of the deceased

Screams of hatred fill the immaterial
Tainting the threshold between the two worlds
“RESSURGAM”… Words of revenge carved in their tombs
Perpetual invocation of desperate return
Limbo’s the final fate… Immersed in inner decay
Prayers of sour faith… Captive naive prey

Loath to exile… Frail essence’s dissolving
Sensing utter disintegration… Eerie christening
Somewhere… Somehow… Seek the seance
Awake the alienated mind… Take possession
Seductive attraction… Break the eternal cycle
Pierce the impenetrable orb… Deceive putrefaction

“Chronicles of The Deceased”
António Eryx Santos
03:14/21-08-1996
Funchal – Ilha da Madeira

Inner Sanctum

What would we see
If we dare to look inside ourselves
Anger, hatred, greed
And how many more forms of Hell

And what would we find
If we probe a little deeper in our minds
Maybe the horror and pain of pleasures
Or perhaps some other hideous treasures

The agony of saints is vain
While our painful orgy remains
Bloodied sperm, the orgasm of Dark Gods
Death awaits, nothing shall be the way it was

“Inner Sanctum”
António Eryx Santos
00:35/17-12-1996
Funchal – Ilha da Madeira

Eve’s Child

I remember more sins than I would like to say
I drown in guilt, getting more distant from myself
Everyday…

It won’t vanish, even if I sin a little more or pray
I feel so filth, I look and things are not so well
So much decay…

I wish
Time could walk behind
So selfish
The sin is all mine

I know
Things can’t be worse, that’s fine
But it grows
The guilt inside my mind

Sinful child
Eve… Sweet mother…
…I’m Eve’s child…

But I want always more – Different ways of having fun
What’s left to ask for – Maybe I’ll ask the Sun
I’ll never be myself again – I hope to be when I die
I’ll never be free from sin – But is that a reason to cry?

“Eve’s Child”
António Eryx Santos
11:59/17-12-1996
Funchal – Ilha da Madeira

Birth of The Gods

Can They bend the night
By willing the shades of darkness?
Are They the Gods to come
To invade Mankind’s sacred fortress?

Can They be the dreams of the Unliving
Asleep at unspoken tombs?
Are They the howls of The Grey Wolves
Sneaking in the forest’s wombs?

                    Are They The Souls of Chaos?
                    …Universal illusions naked…
                    Are They The Legacy of Hatred?

“Shame to share – Stay aware
Everything’s to destroy or care
Even life – Nothing to hide
They will take it when you die”

“Birth of The Gods”
António Eryx Santos
22:54/23-02-1997
Funchal – Ilha da Madeira

Autopsy on The Living

A girl’s walking – The night’s not safe – The Stalker’s angry
Frail flesh – Tempting passion – Lethal ecstasy…
A girl’s taken – Disbelief and thrill – Unknown tragedy
The Guardian Angel’s blind – No respect – No fucking mercy

Obedience’s hope – Frightened creed – Certain is tiny
Mistake – Nightmare – Blasphemy
Naked – Dishonoured – Suffocating misery
Turned – Photographed – Cryptic ceremony

Abuse – Rape – Pornography
S&M – Prostitution – Paedophilia
Dark dreams – Possession – Haunted men
Desire – Preparation – Carefully
Hunt – Abduction – Secrecy
Dark realities – Obsession – Everlasting sin

Tied – Immobilised – Chained to a bed brutally
Beaten – Sodomized – In the path of insanity
Cries of shameful pain – Terror – Unbearable agony
Impossible escape – No saviour – Just unholy carnality

Physical violence – Torture – Slight mutilation – Curiosity
Permanently penetrated – Too much to stand – Unnatural relation – Bestiality
Spanked – Inconscient – Eviscerated – So slowly
Death – Hard to come – Wanted – But denied calmly

Bite – Torn – Laceration – Howls at haemorrhage
Teared tissue – Opened abdomen – Dissection – Inspection at anatomy
Blooded scissors – Members ripped – Decapitation – Life’s empty
Martyrs Maker – Satisfied – Powerful – Worshiped serenity

Peace at last… Serenity…
Peace at last… But already fading…
Autopsy on the living
Autopsy on the living…

“Autopsy on The Living”
António Eryx Santos
00:42/09-03-1997
Funchal – Ilha da Madeira

Alchemist

Decadent house that remains
Over the ruins of centenary dreams
Of a haunted hill that denies time

Between the walls of oblivion and fear
Lives the Alchemist, the dreamer of the Gods
Departed from the world, solitary with is mind

Sight almost blind and tired that rests
Over the pages of an ancient treatise
          Ruined body by the fury of the impatient Death
          Wandering between the retorts and the burning
Soul that seeks between dream and reality
In search of the truth and the Deity

Old man, Alchemist
Keep chasing your goal with obsession
Era after era, after the Sun and the rain

Old man, Alchemist
How many of your lives have you wasted?
How many eternities have you gained?

Alchemist – Transmutator
Old man – Lone creator
          Mortality – Consequence of conscience
          Alchemist – Breed without descendance

What have you desired
And what did you get?
Answer me with your silence

You know that nothing is what it seems
In your hallucinated dreams
Show me the truth of your science

Know you what is time
And what’s after to come?
In centuries, where we will you find?
Will we ever listen: “The Alchemist’s gone”?

“Alchemist”
António Eryx Santos
23:50/19-03-1997
Funchal – Ilha da Madeira

I Can’t Be Sure

Some people say
You and I can’t be real
We know, that’s OK
Except for the doubts I feel

I wonder, if
Some of the doors we open
Are meant to be locked
I don’t know why, but
Some of the paths we walk
Are supposed to be blocked

I question myself
If it’s we or them
The ones who don’t dare
Who acts on whose behalf
If it’s we or them
The ones who don’t care

I think
If there’s a valid reason
To mix future with past
I say
It’s all so unimportant
But I can’t be so sure of that
I wonder, if
We pay for what we have done
I don’t know why, but
Maybe this is all wrong
I question myself
But I find no way out
Who acts on whose behalf
Who crosses whose path

I think
We are shadows of what we were
I say
But I can’t be sure
I think
We are faded to be no more
I say
But I really can’t be sure

I really can’t be sure of that…

“I Can’t Be Sure”
António Eryx Santos
23:40/20-03-1997
Funchal – Ilha da Madeira

Paradigmas do Vértice Negro – II – Ser Velho

Morrer velho é morrer duas vezes
Na distância do silêncio
No abandono diário
                    Nos dias iguais de anos sem meses
                    De um tempo agora vazio
                    Sem horas nem calendário

É ter a alma presa num barco sem porto
Amordaçada pela dor dilacerante
Gemendo frágil e encolhida
                    Prisioneira do débil corpo quase morto
                    Que resiste teimosamente
                    Ignorando a hora da partida

Desejamos a morte
O futuro sem história
A meta que se cruza sem glória
Sem doçura ou amargura
Numa derrota com cheiro de vitória
Porque estamos cansados
Gastos e acabados
Ansiosos por perder esta luta
Com arrependimento e alívio
Para descansar, esquecer
Abraçar o seco vazio
E finalmente deixar de viver

“Paradigmas do Vértice Negro – II – Ser Velho”
António Eryx Santos
20:56/18-05-2025
Maiorga – Alcobaça

Publicado na antologia
Entre o Sono e o Sonho – Volume XVII – Tomo I (A-J) da Chiado Books em 2025-11-29.
Páginas: 614 (Página 125)
ISBN: 978-989-38-0506-0