Here we are,
Back in the land of the living...
Grey and materialistic,
Unraveled by the depth of the dead,
...
Built upon my broken back,
Upon a broken shore.
Stretching out beyond the sea,
And past the open door.
...
Coming to an end,
A plunge into the darkness,
Death by blade or bullet.
Key hole wind, winding through my head
...
I use a hand to kill myself,
I use a deadly tool,
I watch it move, I watch it work…
It seems like days and days,
...
Frail little dead things...
Feet don't fail me now,
Crossed the line and folded flat,
slowly set to drown.
...
Stuck inside a shell,
Transmutated memories of living in a waking hell...
I left you all behind,
Or maybe i got lost inside the forest,
...
More bad news today…
Nothing more to say,
Nothing more to do but look for a clue…
How to cure such a sickness?
...
What i sought to see and did not know,
Echos of betrayal framed in red and yellow afterglow.
Embers fall from crested waves of apocalypse,
...
The events as they occurred,
Distinctions made between the clarity of vision when it doubled from a singleness of purpose into non-sequential blurs.
Tried to make it clearer through the chaos of the once more two way mirror,
...
Of course i have seen the writing on the wall,
The intertwining interest in the symmetry of pitfalls.
Piquing interest,
Peering thoughts,
...