Vivid Nightmares

Dreamer oh dreamer, you –
who are paralyzed in terror by the conjurings of your mind –
whose mind’s eye sees the blood yet to be spilled –
the cries yet to be heard –
the suffering yet to be felt –
Embrace the whole that is you –
Blinding light of the Angel –
The fire and fury of the Beast –
They are you, you are them

You are just a fleeting existence,

A daemon who stirred the ocean of unlife,
Cursed to see the truths beyond the veil,
Cursed to sample the suffering yet to come,
Dwelling in the cracks between shadows,
A soulless tool, witness it,
witness it all,
For you can bear this burden,
So others won’t have to,

Photo by Heorhii Heorhiichuk from Pexels

Godless of…

To find that ultimate alone-ness in this uncaring universe… we are godless – we have always been. What questions do we ask ourselves? How do we explain this soul crushing division and loneliness? Are we forever doomed to traverse this universe in this alone-ness? What we wouldn’t give to fill this void of emotion and sensation… everything is so fleeting…

Even if some of us are doomed to walk this Earth frozen and alone… could we ever find that spark of solace in the company of another? Or are we cursed to walk and dream and die in vain?

Photo by Haydan As-soendawy from Pexels


They are like birds of prey who nibble and peck,
These echoes of feelings, sensations and pains,
At the edge of consciousness they ceaselessly wreck,
The soul of the sufferer laden in chains,


Oh how foolish has she been,
To yearn for a sight so true and keen,
To peer trough the mask of lies and deception,
That would forever change her perception,


At first she thought it the greatest gift,
Expecting the torrent of love so pure and swift,
Magnified hundredfold was her ignorant awareness,
When the truth finally struck, she found herself helpless,
In a morass of loneliness,

Photo by Lars

The Aftermath

So many facets, falling in coruscating drops of kaleidoscopic flames. Each of those seems as real as us, standing on this precipice of chaos, yet all gossamer threads, sparkling with silvery silkiness, lead to the darker truth beneath. We are not good men, we have never been. We were made of things far less noble than the mask of piety we present to the world.

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