Passion plummets, so the waves
calm to transparent skin, gives me away
to myself, I travel down
nothing provides comfort, threat surrounds
this squirming, sinking
ugly duckling
at the bottom, I see your face
kick the sediment, still no escape
lost hope in clouding the visions
that atrophy my remaining sensibilities
these memories, regrets,
still killing me
seems like a hundred years have passed,
untold eons,
still I awake to a familiar foul stench,
mumbling morose faerie tales alone
nightmares within daymares
and dead men can weave such hellacious tales
even with their head up their ass
awake, the opossum
playing ostrich ends the act,
the breathless pulls out for a breather
into evaporation,
a yawn from spiritual constipation,
prying open lids to sizzle
black ocean pupil, sick pool in a wasteland iris
in the sight of the glowing sky's eye
rain down your embers
on this withered flesh from your rift,
deliver erotic signs of life
in cigarette burns
as I starve myself, hold my exhale
greetings, violent, indifferent desert winds
thirst, crows and skeletons
flies high-pitched hissing in my ears
searing flesh, the end endures me
till I can circle back again
seems fate is perpetual paralysis
and circumstance, venomous
while careless free will
has kept the monsters alive
in the mosh pit in my head
so sure I'm just wearing thin forever
despite the fact that for so long I've been virtually two-dimensional
so sure I'm cracking at the seams
thought I was lost in reality, still caught in a dead dream
this past on my back remains persistently parasitic
presently, still catatonic
horizon's pleasant mirage, cold, sadistic,
only for dreaming again means waking back
into this nihilistic landscape in a numb shell
marching forward, towards me with the increasing
illusion of clarity, rising climax to crash,
to consume, drive and enliven,
inspiring me to embrace
what forever fails me.
calm to transparent skin, gives me away
to myself, I travel down
nothing provides comfort, threat surrounds
this squirming, sinking
ugly duckling
at the bottom, I see your face
kick the sediment, still no escape
lost hope in clouding the visions
that atrophy my remaining sensibilities
these memories, regrets,
still killing me
seems like a hundred years have passed,
untold eons,
still I awake to a familiar foul stench,
mumbling morose faerie tales alone
nightmares within daymares
and dead men can weave such hellacious tales
even with their head up their ass
awake, the opossum
playing ostrich ends the act,
the breathless pulls out for a breather
into evaporation,
a yawn from spiritual constipation,
prying open lids to sizzle
black ocean pupil, sick pool in a wasteland iris
in the sight of the glowing sky's eye
rain down your embers
on this withered flesh from your rift,
deliver erotic signs of life
in cigarette burns
as I starve myself, hold my exhale
greetings, violent, indifferent desert winds
thirst, crows and skeletons
flies high-pitched hissing in my ears
searing flesh, the end endures me
till I can circle back again
seems fate is perpetual paralysis
and circumstance, venomous
while careless free will
has kept the monsters alive
in the mosh pit in my head
so sure I'm just wearing thin forever
despite the fact that for so long I've been virtually two-dimensional
so sure I'm cracking at the seams
thought I was lost in reality, still caught in a dead dream
this past on my back remains persistently parasitic
presently, still catatonic
horizon's pleasant mirage, cold, sadistic,
only for dreaming again means waking back
into this nihilistic landscape in a numb shell
marching forward, towards me with the increasing
illusion of clarity, rising climax to crash,
to consume, drive and enliven,
inspiring me to embrace
what forever fails me.
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