To dream of death to dream of life. In the city of despair I found the living. To dream of life to dream of death. In the city of the living I found despair
Strength of the spirit means to an end Returning a stranger from the west setting sun Shell of rust dust and dreams Unearthed by our own hands The sacred
Chaos mirroring the eye of eternity. As surely as the tightening grip of singularity. From the disgrace of life's mundanity. The purveyors of immaculate
Faces pressed against the earth tonight. Acknowledgement of the terrors inside. Facing the self effacing the self. This frigid place within me today.
A storm beyond what eyes can see but read my palm till the end. Deafening smoldered persistence a rift never destined for mend. A somber lament insignificance
In my darkest hour my blood runs free I?ve come to lie on the fire I?ve come to stare at the sun Where two bleed as one Is it time the sun arrived
Whispered words these walls breathe the inanity of accusation And a moment of gifting passes through what once was identity In a movement beyond truth
The voice cannot carry The tongue and the lips that give it wings For even as love crowns you So shall it crucify you Descend to your roots And shake
We settle for pleasure. We revel in pain. She will regret forever. He lusts for a cleansing rain. Set adrift and yet amiss. Stranger in a strange land
Falling for feeling. Time stops our hearts again. Visceral emanations break bread with remember-whens and has-beens. The nows and the laters wage war
The dive into numbness, the only option today. Retreating into oblivion never felt so effortless. Forging the path within an eternal descent. Hope,
Life ends as leaves fall. Occam?s razor strikes again. Can I dance if I have no soul? If I go under will you find me cold? And if I travel to distant
Fire dance of self deprecation dopamine receptivity The orphans of piety we are birthed into sorrow and shame A truth to believe a thirst for reprieve
Through the waxing through the waning. Amidst blackness a spark emerged. And we heaved death's branches upon the skyward flames. A haunting memory left
Can we transgress that sacred melody, that once lulled single selves into solidity? Can we dance and dismiss right-eousness joyously, and wander and err
Whispered words. These walls breathe the inanity of accusation and a moment of gifting passes through what once was identity so that its dispersement
Such a vice, this doomed beauty. Must there be an opposition to bliss? By now he had come to know his fate, eons could prove to be no harm. The impendence
If only lives could paint themselves. The winding roads would not lie. Empty spaces could co-exist with empty faces to experience the invigoration of
