jpgrdnr
Bluelighter
This is where we stand at that last prespice of darkness, given the
benefit of watching our ownselves fall into the blackness...perpetuated
by the myth of something better. In Africa they are doing better than
us, given nothing when we have everything. And still we rally
against this Brave New World in the faint hope of something to Believe in.
Believing in the nothing.
Don't we know better? Apparently naught blinded by our own hells.
To each his own and that sadness that lurks in that abyss.
Where are your friends now, do they lurk in the stream of
consciousness called the Stygian myth? Are you not already dead but
have not realised that the continuation of this is not anything
more than that eventuality?
You say you are not afraid but you lie.
You lie just like your mothers lie when you think of the nothing
that lurks in the closet, that she will in turn tell you it is
alright. It is alright to die alone. To wander around in the mind
of it, mistaking the benefit of seeing everything again for the
first time. You remember...remember how it was all the same before,
nothing different no less, no more. And in that mistaken memory, of
that pain and suffering, it doesn't hurt at all.
I think of all the pleasures and the worldly delights, and how its
just a chemical, a drug, a hit to continue on, being an addict of
this, in its basic simplicity. The drug is a myth. What is this
thing that you carry inside that mirrors itself?
The mask that you wear has fallen and itself is mere illusion.
Oh, the lament.
benefit of watching our ownselves fall into the blackness...perpetuated
by the myth of something better. In Africa they are doing better than
us, given nothing when we have everything. And still we rally
against this Brave New World in the faint hope of something to Believe in.
Believing in the nothing.
Don't we know better? Apparently naught blinded by our own hells.
To each his own and that sadness that lurks in that abyss.
Where are your friends now, do they lurk in the stream of
consciousness called the Stygian myth? Are you not already dead but
have not realised that the continuation of this is not anything
more than that eventuality?
You say you are not afraid but you lie.
You lie just like your mothers lie when you think of the nothing
that lurks in the closet, that she will in turn tell you it is
alright. It is alright to die alone. To wander around in the mind
of it, mistaking the benefit of seeing everything again for the
first time. You remember...remember how it was all the same before,
nothing different no less, no more. And in that mistaken memory, of
that pain and suffering, it doesn't hurt at all.
I think of all the pleasures and the worldly delights, and how its
just a chemical, a drug, a hit to continue on, being an addict of
this, in its basic simplicity. The drug is a myth. What is this
thing that you carry inside that mirrors itself?
The mask that you wear has fallen and itself is mere illusion.
Oh, the lament.
