Echo's N MelanKholyia From Trauma To Enlightenment

Downing in my echoes, 

The screams I repress and hide within me,

Kings that use to be slaves,

Have a view of the world like a man so humble,

Suffering gives you the most to pay,

For wisdoms that changes the life line you walk day by day,

Raising my hands high I touch my lips from where hate mixed with sadness,

Breathing in the fear,

Screaming becomes a work of art,

When the bells of your heart rings your mind to sleep in the dead of night,

The screams I repress,

Breathing in the fear I hide within,

My mind is a battle ground,

No guns no knifes,

Just the self that who I criticize, 

To break my soul apart,

Am I good enough,

I am I living right,

Is my heart in the right place all the time,

Afraid of life,

But I walk along the wire of moments and sounds that seem alive,

To break my soul apart,

Am I good enough,

I am I living right,

Is my heart in the right place all the time,

Afraid of life,

Downing in my echoes,

Kings that use to be slaves,

When kings hand down their rein,

The world silent fades away, 

Who I criticize 2

Decayed but borrowed in emotional chains, 

To face the goal I run and hide in fright,

 As the moon turns black in the night,

Repercussions, 

Locked in the dark tied to a chair,

 For hours on end,

I was only a seed 

What where you,

Slaps across the targets features, the windows of the soul connects To the wood,

Impacting the set of the chair, 

The cries begin, 

As mother became the enemy,

Manipulating emotions,

Acts and thoughts to words twisted like wires and as abundant as hair on the head,

Am I that horrible,

Taken in a corner wear a cone as a hat,

At such age when the world is neon bright,

Not once but three,

At five to twelve to fifteen,

Formed,

A play toy made of expressionless faces,

Numbed detached from sensations,

Floating in the air screams like a bullet with more than a silencer for sounds attention,

In whispers that never make it to the clouds,

Rain pour without ever hitting the ground,

Dancing in agony,

In a grave made of shadows, 

That move and clip,

Marked with cigarette burns that identify vintage films,

Moving in silence is the game that's said,

Obey, 

Silent,

Softly one might cry but a programmed drought was engineered to replace the visual emotional movie preview, 

So nears what feels evaporated, 

A mist of dew suspended mid air, Motionless in the motion of time,

The aftermath feels like forever locking away all sight of description ,

Until the return,

Releasing the captivity 

The last breath you feed into your image,

Fades as quick as the reflex of a blunt trauma impact. 

The Seed Of the Begotten A Tragedy

Glass walls cracked and fractured,

A world all our own where toxic gases bloom , 

The inner world the self that is cut in pieces ,

Rebuilt held together with light threads, 

Locked in knots with a meaning of hope that encounters horrors before revival the heaven of perfection the eternal hour,

Sleeping minds speak,

 Four vocal tones differing inner monologues convert from, Debating logic to pure reason,

To be release to breath,

When the outer perception Is reviewed showing what beholds Perceiving of a vocal singular chameleon , 

The host a possession that looks genuine,

But as natural,

As the perfection of pearls,

While three sleep dormant;

For the one speaking, 

Becomes like a symbiotic lover, 

Protecting the original host from destruction, 

Emptiness is when I start to breath in a full blown reality, 

The stillness of mental clarity,

When the inner child dissolved with agreement of safety,

While the mental code designed and a behavior like a double helix, Twisted engineered sends signals, 

So like being a product reborn to excel,

A inhumane extraterrestrial, And fuel with a added genetic superiority promoting attitude reflected a army,,

A vocal identity living without humanity but a otherworldly entity,

Whispering In the corridors where the succubus gash teeth protracting inner tongues licking at the host cradling protective like parenting

Armed, 

Physical power,

Alive,

 A metaphor for as real as the senses in waking life,

A violence injected like the act of insemination ,

Actions taken to the enemy like parasites in a frenzy,

Produced by the dopamine of a lovers first union,

 After the invocation, 

The passionate martial declaration ,

the poetry spoken but as permanent as  wrapped scrolls Impregnated,

Encased  in earth's mercury and plated so embedded,

With precious gold,

Wearing clothing made of the emotional numb the mask we wear

Together making the only one expression lost in a dream ,

No one can see what we hold together as one,

In sections to boils and fear,

What was lost to the child inside you hold dear,

Dead to the eyes as the world breaks and falls away,

Rest,

No,

Action repeat,

Don't forget we're here to hold your experiences,

That you can not bare to carry alone,

Safety is this mercy I believe it is safety


What's Beneath Dissociative Identities

So cold in audio focusing on the white static reality, 

Bones black as incinerated bones,

Fear,

The fear is lingering,

Run,

To take cover in singular voided emptiness

For the purpose ahead,  

Laying in the silence,

Emotions reverse from reactions to inspiration 

Merging with liquid inspiration,

Like a chemical spill,

Making toxic the pool of blood the gives life to breath,

The outlet of a skill giving relief and enlightenment 

 Begging to be drowning in the visual euphoria,

But once free,

Begins the process, 

 Unknowingly intoxicating everyone,

 Distorting everything,

Into a functioning external fantasy,

 Of what walks in existence, 

The visuals leek into the stomach of the mind begin, 

The vomiting to purge tragedy and the eternal consumption of experiences,

Expelled the words like casting spells in the dark ages,

Hoping to spread like plagues against nations asleep to the effects of the agony just behind them, 

But the continual action and pulses,

 Are captured to then evade,

Repeating the ritual,

  Just dry heaving in rigged movements,

 Laughing in flames mute,

 While inscribing the words the muses sing,

The coded expressions intertwined In webs released ,

The contents that like a hurricane pour as rain but hell fire engulfs and devours,

Acid tears engraving messages on the  surface of tongues,

Sending the consciousness into fits of a writing,

 A rushing frenzy full of fury and mystic artistry    

Passing the land of visual ecstasy,

Expelling the incantations that are blending together,

Infusing them in the sheets of wood and slabs of clay, 

To be forever preserved,

Wondering from thoughts to melting emotions coagulate,

 Reconstructing experiences into messages from memories haunting the realm of mankind,  

 Finding a empty box to hide the contents of all other skills that remains before the progression takes hold,

So the trance embed artist within can excel all obstacles formed from the blind oracles,

To seal the work forever embedded in the minds,

 Of all those who choice, 

To indulge in the expression of art,

Expression Of the divine  



The Coded Expressions So The Indulgence Of Art MelanKholyia

Underserving locked in focus no words to bury

 The sleeping gods I have their token as the treasure, 

 Of illuminated lust,

 Disappearing in the fire fields,

 So Life is so worthless with the screams of light haunting me,

A parasite, I am lobotomized, voices speaking in red this frequency,

 Controlling my brain will this ever go away lost in space trapped in time,

 Faces slip off in the reflection of the mirror

Underserving locked in focus no words to bury the sleeping gods,

I have their token as the treasure of illuminated lust,

 Disappearing in the fire fields, 

So Life is so worthless,

 With the screams of light uncover in the suffocated memories,

Reverse the transfer am I corrupted,

Lost all of everything,

I propose I take a leave,

 The corpse buried under cement I casted a spell for relief will you ever know?,

Bring me down to earth again,

Living in the memory of a defiled martyrium,

Salivating at the thought of a savior,

I am the ghost in the reflection,

So I am,

Entering the phases I have tranced in front of me,

Underneath the sleeping world,

Gone but walking in wonder,


A Sleepless Rage

(Verus 1)

Hide all my emotions from the outside,

Over stressed with a mask on my face,

A broken smile laying in the inside,

Tears dry like dust they spill, 

I'm so sorry you can't see the truth,

It's ok I've lived a moment in time,

Sands on the earth wrap and roll around, 

Like the memories that we take to the ego death across the shore,

Giving to the world all my stealth all my strength can't hold no more ,

 Just to move with you by your side,

So weak and never was I a reminder,

Feeling to much

(Chorus)

This is the letter of my demise for all to see,

Wrapped in coats of shame 

Built on hills of blame,

Casting spells of regret,

Feeling so numb to

Be awake anymore,

I hope you know 

I love you,

Take my hand this one last time,

as I Dematerialize,

I'm so sorry,

(Verus 2)

Different parts of me so dependent to voice their concerns, 

Erasing reality with a dream forever,

They all take off their amor the fight is over,

Living in survival mode my whole life I'm tired of being hunted 

I took the time to try I did I have to say goodbye,

You might think it's not my time to fade,

But I have to say I lived a thousands lifetimes of pain,

Freedom is where I want to pray,

Pushing any further will destroy my name and faith,

(Chorus)

I have to say good bye this letter 

This is the letter of my demise for all to see,

Wrapped in coats of shame 

Built on hills of blame,

Casting spells of regret,

Feeling so numb to

Be awake anymore,

I hope you know 

I love you,

(Bridge)

Take my hand this one last time,

as I Dematerialize,

I'm so sorry,

Is for you alone,

This is the letter of my demise for all to see,

Wrapped in coats of shame 

Built on hills of blame,

Casting spells of regret,

Feeling so numb 

Be awake anymore,

I hope you know 

I love you,

Take my hand this one last time,

as I Dematerialize,

(Outro)

I'm so sorry,

My scars you can't see because their buried within me,

You can fix me this mercy is my choice,

Entering the point of the lock on the gates ,

Something moves inside   


The Letter Goodbye Dematerialize

Echo's N MelanKholyia: A Sonic Odyssey of Fragmented Souls
In the shadowed corners of Goshen, Indiana, Echo's N MelanKholyia emerges as a groundbreaking experimental music project, a testament to the transformative power of art in the face of inner chaos. Founded in 2025 by the visionary artist Nexus Khimera—known also as Echos or Mothyii—this endeavor is an AI-assisted alchemical fusion of raw emotion and sonic innovation. At 38 years old, Khimera channels a lifetime of introspection, beginning from therapeutic explorations at age 15, into a tapestry of sound that defies categorization. The project's name, with its deliberate misspelling, evokes distorted echoes of melancholy—fragments of pain rebounding through an eternal void, mirroring the fragmented realities Khimera weaves into every composition.
Khimera serves as the sole architect of Echo's N MelanKholyia, handling vocals, lyrics, production, and visual aesthetics with a chameleon-like versatility. Drawing from a deeply personal narrative of psychological navigation, the music acts as a manifesto for survival, blending co-conscious identity shifts and emotional rebirth. The band's conceptual "members"—envisioned as alters in a dissociative system—include Helix as the resilient core, Alice as the protective guardian embodying transgender identity and safety, Odium as the unflinching confrontor of hate and vacuum, Five as the frozen residue of past emptiness, and Suicide Gene as the unnamed pull toward nothingness, symbolizing unyielding survival code. These personas "speak" through layered vocals, reversed whispers, and glitchy confessions, creating a dialogue that invites listeners to confront their own shadows without judgment.
Musically, Echo's N MelanKholyia is a hypnotic storm of genres: traumacore's dissonant catharsis meets industrial gothcore's mechanical fury, nu metal's rap-growl aggression, post-darkwave's ethereal haze, glitchcore's chaotic distortions, and voidcore's abyssal emptiness. The result is an immersive, addictive soundscape—binaural beats pulsing at 40Hz and 174Hz to tie in seduction and euphoria, 3D audio for psychotic despair, and unpolished production that bleeds raw intensity. Themes delve into mental health's labyrinth: dissociation's void, addiction's grip, damaging relationships' scars, and the triumph of self-reclamation. Khimera's artistry extends beyond audio to visual realms, with album artwork featuring charcoal sketches, gothic horror elements, and luciferian symbolism, all crafted to evoke a "junkie holocaust death march" of creepy, apocalyptic introspection.
Since its inception, Echo's N MelanKholyia has released a series of chapters that push artistic boundaries, available on platforms like Spotify, Amazon Music, SoundCloud, Apple Music, Tidal, Qobuz, and TikTok. The project's YouTube channel serves as a portal for official music videos, behind-the-scenes glimpses, and community engagement, fostering a space where fans can explore their own narratives through Khimera's lens. With collaborations leveraging AI for production and thematic depth, the band stands as a beacon for the disenchanted, proving that art can heal, empower, and transcend.
Subscribe to Echo's N MelanKholyia on YouTube for a journey into the melanKholyia—where echoes of the past forge omegas of the future. For inquiries or collaborations, connect via Facebook or X (@Mothyii13). All rights reserved © 2025 Echo's N MelanKholyia.