From the battle of Hadrianopolis to the Vandals and the Gothic wars of old I have been a witness to a multitude of calamities and injustices and have always fought for the rights of our natural Mother who has given us all life. I am in a constant battle and must run with solid boots on my feet as I romp through the mucous and mud of the fields of clovers where we slay dragons and dangers to our freedom. In my Gothic boots I can rampage and repent and re-arrange the wrongs that the testaments and the blasphemies have inflicted on your mind and soul.

Join me as we trample through the viscous liquid blood and membranes of the millions who lay mummified in dark dry caves below us waiting for the Dark Devil himself to unleash their fury. My black buckled boots will stomp throats and crush skulls to protect the merest rosebud on this orb. My Gothic dream allows no cruelty only the sacrifice and the master and servant condition to be understood and respected. Thigh high belted leather grapples up towards my pelvis and my knees are bent and ready to pounce as the panther in the palm tree waits for the rabbit.

Metal on metal and skin on skin. Our bond is a platform for our sweat and tears and hair. These demonia boots have scaled highest prison walls and barbed wire battlefields left by the pestilence of mankind. In the peace of my steady quicksilver mind I trek ever higher towards the pinnacle of enlightenment and these Gothic boots that I wear will take me to the treasures of love, lust and loneliness.