Hello, I am an avid supporter of this artist’s genre and style, and I wrote these reflections when I listened to the album sovran 15 thoroughly, there is mixture of both my words and hers throughout the entire concisions down here, hopefully you relish it.
Ultimate in her countenance and seemingly in the qietus copiousness of the lethal weaponry of Gothicism and darkness, in adoration bowing; and found to be extremely flamboyant of her Gothic predilections and disposition as well, as I listen to her vocals and when she sings; the purest love of all imparts my ears to raise a statue in the wilderness so that finding a peer of a haunting night coloured in a summoned dead colours, lost in sadness and failing to realize the cold fire that suits the Pale Tortured Blue éclat while paying attention to it, yet when daylight aches sounding so unreal and deceptive, the stellar acts of loving begin to beggarly react to the darkness round the dense matter; and seamlessly subtle in a haunting disposition, frozen and sweating in the faltering oceans though waterless and like nothingness in the forever thread of darkness and elan.
Menace as she closes to the stage swearing to love the truest of all embrace of her sheltering nebula, though feeling disheartened and dancing somewhat those exquisite emerging voluptuousness, yet no love finds her; no life finds her, no truth defines her as she lip-synches the devil inside getting a hold of her vouching for holding on to silence, frozen by haunted souls; distant and desolate as she glides to rhythmically corroborate her getaway, knowingly she would be found too proud to declare the neglect of her reality as the queen of her being, the seed of pristine darkness and heavens free bound to bristle and foster that anyhow sovereignty of the multiple renewals of icy skies, vacuum spaces and behemoth universe.
She keeps getting lost in the universe of her cravings for comfort and aphorisms of the obsolete heading for ultimate woes of burdens upon her ruthless and cold, so she switches sides and departs for a new nothingness that past won’t let go of it, with a promise of silence and virility that will have her cry no longer. She is so selective of the strange eyes that gaze in bewilderment and broken debris, she pleads for silence and she ceases to leave unless rendered the resort she came to obtain vigorously.
She cannot hide from a grace already contaminating insalubriously, yet she meant to write a love song dead in ragged tacitness and terseness; astray from light and shine, so she flows to meet her own meltdown and disarray, clinging on to her roughly cognizance of the assertive darkness she once kept in mind, in solitude unified and unedited of the intervention. She feels the rapture into a plight and the sphere of her own knowledge of things even bitterly, feeling the creation pitching in to provide her better perception but she desperately closes in, they walk away; she is so tired and needs to feel the freeze in the designation of nothingness, she feels carried back to being left alone, that solo darkness and being infiltrated into it in proportions, she won’t leave till she exasperates the race that is now wearing her off, she seems to get off on it and has nothing to fall back on, she is dormant in her own secrecy.
Of her silence she chants righteousness of freedom and credulity of being distant and ashes covered fully, sharing such caliber monstrously when she initiates the boundaries of her intuitions towards me; marking my astonishment and éclat upon her existence and me ending up overwrought not to see her anymore unless I am attached to the sovereignty 15 of her tremendousness, she gets to be there reeming me off and kenning my fights zealously.