Dead Love (Stories from the Howlfire) Firewood if she was a tree . . . Would, oh would she ever burn to me ? This 11th opus finished in 09.04.999, after three and a half moons of writing. Written by Wolfram Winterfur. caption: "Say what you feel - I'm not afraid to cry" ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1. A Cat Made of Blood Her personal colour at dawn of the wood Nearly as absence I saw it in the winter firmament azure Like the forest her doings were obscurant and cruel In her fiercest times she even kissed wolves Her tragic life without me returned only to me She passed and left me her life in obscurity Past shadowhood doesn't let me live without trees but at least my lover in all but me is free Finally Although it's still like we shared our mood, all is dying and passing beyond Even the strongest forests are made of wood, the strangest forest cats of blood Only from colours of dead days I can now remember her last wintry shrieks with laughter back in December Sooner or later I know I have to surrender, I've got peace to plunder, flesh to tear asunder, a yearning - I must follow her Things could get frail if I'm truly following her Of blood she was made for so easily she could die But I'd give my own blood just For Loving Her for nothing else than her delicate love like blood so many dusks I've cried (February '99) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- 2. Troll Dust in the Forest Sky [keeping the secrets beheld beyond trees] (February '99) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- 3. Blood Lost or Lovelust, No Wolf Decides And she cries, to a hostile forest seduced by force I feel as alone as she is, if not even worse A pretty doll with the only purpose of suffering and dying never tasted this empty, decline... Her respect to her rapist's far less than in the past She only fears and shatters in my grasp She must be my last devil girl I scatter I can't kill without longing for Her "No dying without crying" as She once said A love lost - no bloodlust, so I might as well be dead She brays as the ropes bray and the dawn swiftly turns into a day Frost has covered her skin, formerly so soft and sleek as satin Death starts to hunt my prey Surrounding crisp air gets thin, thinner than this tortured former virgin I gotta kill her to win A wacky moment of indigo thoughts I stun as a frightening relish comes to my mind If I cannot reach the relief by raping mundane females, can a human girl I even still love be my snared flesh I some day find? And all this comes to me when I nearly thought all human maidens are the same tied and astride Whether this leads to remorse, even deeper depression or not, it's not for me to decide (February '99) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- 4. Dead Lovers I remember... the wondrous eves I remember you laughing in my arms Our little wolf-ways in realizing dreams Our together passed forest nights under stars Although I might soon be craving more for females of other species my memories of You shall never be torn You live 'till my death in my carnal fantasies There I find myself adoring girls who cats find pleasant Tall girls with long legs covered in tight white Girls whose beings can, in their own way, be fragrant Girls of which cats never look like Cat-scent makes them irresistible... I still wanted to live with cats, but how could I as all my cat friends commit suicides? I'm sure you'd have understood that As every lover does, everylove dies I remember the glorious dawns I remember you crying on your knees Our cat-skilled survival in the storms Our secret, twisted love among the trees (Mourn '99) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- 5. She Kissed Strange Wolves Firewood if She was a tree She would, oh yes, She would have burnt for me But would She ever give me a second chance... for Her to be ? For I love Her and Her lovely, wicked witchery ...grimly! (February '99) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- 6. And In March She Decays Painting whores on the reddish cave walls The rising spring complements my will of the archaic course Snow flakes still fall down but the sun's as well beginning to burn the ground With Death I've lived all this Winter and her artwork is everywhere now Wanderlust inveigles I hope only for few days with the only companions of cat skulls and far away flying ravens turned into eagles On the diminishing light before dusk with long-lasted longing I write Her a letter of caringlust for She's the last living goth-girl I do care is she flesh or dust Loving Her is like falling in love with my cat's cat Like all my beloved ones, She's too quite mad... for such wicked, sad eyes are the most pleasant to look at But it all differs from animal lovers' fights as this witch is a human, I'm afraid what she replies But Say What Thou Wilt - I'm at least not afraid to cry (March '99) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- 7. The Forest in Her Prime [Instrumentale. Musikk for sunrise and clear brooks under the snowy ice] (March '99) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- 8. Lady Winterlove Whore on the rocks Dusk as sand deceaves her to the dreaming Mundane nightmares succumb to strange love lusts in spring fogs Where she rests a crescent looms and suddenly her life has a meaning The place we made love last summer nights, the cat and me, now witness as a winter ends The tigress gave her all but still my thirst remained unsatisfied And this disposal maiden's wintry love the unfinished death complements As could have been said a thousand times before Her snowy figures drenched in water made of snow, tracks undone She loves winter, to winter's death once more Like loving to work with Death and the sun Spilling family blood though she is a creature of Dream Exploring the limits of her imaginery love And when she figures out where they are and what does it all mean She comes to me I tell her she's not with me, she's above Dreams of dawn are always perfect in blood I enjoy having sex with her for that while I fantasize of my dead cat She tells me she's a satanist for her it is just Like the moment was just between skies, lies and wishes of dusk And I write of spells meaningless in the havoc created by the goth-girl and the dead tigress (March '99) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- 9. In Loving Memory of Freedom: Stories That Would Have Been Told (The Imaginery Tracks) i. Lumipuuma Snowballs made by her draws a crescent in the snow above a frozen creek She leaves red pawprints to the cold, soft snow... Her furry, warm paws in the arctic snow... how raw How Winter makes her feel so free from feelings other than oppressive, objectless love ii. Seuraavana aurinkoisena iltana... As she dances naked in the mist she feels free in her territory of war long into the next sunny eve ... with slashed wrists And decides to live one eve more iii. Jos toiveet oisivat kissoja Thousands of real friends she has though they are all trees She wonders what it'd be like if someone her ever grasped and really loved her... iv. Kauniimpi kuin Kuolema She... whispers aloud her prayings and starts to cry on her knees She's deadlier than she thinks An ochre cat playing games to herself, filled with red She pretends attempting a suicide as there her woeful perversion filled with tears is fed v. Sateisten päivien örkki She enjoys the fire in the rain cries just for fun There'd be so many things in her beauty arcane she still has never done vi. Lunta haavoille Grins - painful, bloody grins She wonders why blood is so calm when she bleeds Consciousness might leave her soon She takes ice-cold snow to her vagina to cover the wound Ensanguines her body in the winter woods with the blood of her lover He who died by making love like blood vii. Harmaatuuli Admiring her sight she gazes the wind passing by Climbs on the highest standing tree on the upper woodland Refreshes herself in the cold, stands adoring her own eyes viii. Ei mustaa, vaan synkkää, synkkää, synkkää rakkautta Just one little while together with one wolfish but delicate kiss... The black midnight rain cannot free her from her stranger love She hates days and nights like this She now knows the biggest lie of them all ix. Erään vähäpätöisen ajan alku She doesn't want to go back - here it's so much better to die She sits on a steady, dry branch of the largest tree of her whole woodland as the wind blows cool Hugs the soft, brown rind and recognises me as a lone wolf (Agape '99) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- 10. The New Feline (An' Old Wolf Bloodline) And she answered in soft, sweet words I promised 'till my death her comfort as well as a human girl can my pleasure take yet I don't know did she really roll for me or is this goth-girl's redemption a fake Loving her is like playing sodomy For me she is like a cat who cannot see how well wolf love fits in her cat misery (Is it my bane to be?) This is her, , whose death tale has been told in spring also, one year ago If she does try to let me die without her now, she shall fail and there will be another tale in similar form which shall not be told, but performed I must love my feline for it is in my blood to love the dying And that shall be my crime, to follow Her into the darkest December night I was a wolf for a cat once And great time indeed we both had I could do that again and never renounce With a girl who would be a cat (March '99) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- 11. Firefur in My Grasp As I let go of the now I only think if this was a dream I wish I woke up somewhere else She had so much to me to show so much to drink so much I still wanted to see with Her, not just in some kind of wicked faerytales She's still my all for I make no goth-girl roll So I prefer girls who have have skin of fur to roll with always Blood as pure look as lucid as dank autumn nights and days Fur of fire if She was an element of spring She burnt to Death, like she was gone since the beginning Death, we both loved her but Death chose not to like me at all Some day she must for me return and then I ask her what the hell took so damn long ... (April '99) -----------------------------------------------------------------------------