Ireland in Focus

I am breaking the silence of a space by breaking my silence about Glasgow. It was geographically Scotland, but used by the Irish Republican Army as a safe space to study of all things engineering.  They needed my registry with the Vietnamese I had been educated with after they escaped the landscape of their deceit which we called a "conflict." A man leaned in as I broke the sterility of the subject of torture and Ireland's secret society of men who exist in this country as their hearts are still heavy for their country, its beauty, and its vicious hazing.  The doorway is Belfast, materially and mystically.  I was careful to tread lightly and keep the subject on my own experience.  Now the silence can hold beauty, and that which the brotherhood has endured can now be the melody for change, for some, and estrangement for others.  Mothers, you no longer own your sons.  I am not here as a demon in denim, I am a being who is not like all of you.  I whisper in your dreams and use sorcery to separate satanistic tethers in this space as the herd comes together in a way that shame could be felt today.  Especially for Ireland, it is the eyes.  The becoming sees them come to life and laughing is seen at our similarity and attraction.  I am the cliffs with seagulls for some, and the rough seas for others.  I am an ambient being, and the terror in the background just becomes red and black to me now.  I will paint the sky, and fill the moon one day with my King.  Be beside me, beloved one, and we shall feel our autonomy with each other.