Tumultuous turmoil within the confines of the soul. It searches for the cracks that destiny has left behind in its wake. It reeks havoc on the entrails of the mind, vanquishing all that remains of a spirited being. I languish here, in the corner, in the dark, waiting, watching out for the life long lived to end in a blast of thunder and lightning. No avail. No peace. I yearn for the days where my fate could not find me.
I am not a disobidient creature. Virtue is not my forte. I strive to live out the remainder of my sentence in some isolated corner of the mind. I disappear with every passing eion, only unaware that I exist. I embrace the elements where I reside. I envelop the essence that makes my vassal glee. Only, there is no warmth, no tenderness, no sweet carress, only damnation on the morning dew. I grasp at that which has not gone before me, but what has been lain after me. I am the latter, not the former.
I strive, I push, I cower...I...I...I cower, here, now, then, always. Cowering in the dark, waiting and watching for the isolation to end, to be destroyed by the chaotic elements that encircle me. I wait for the thunderous applause of the end. I want to be free of my muse, my destiny, my immortality. I want to look into the eyes of solidarity and know that they are there to carress my pain away, returned to that cold oblivion, and I, I left in the warmth of ecstasy.
Pain...Pain is a reminder of the fate lain before me. Or have I laid it at my own feet? I struggle with the imminent destruction of a worthless life. All before me, was lain by me, but not by my hands. To sunder I go, to the abyss I follow the trail left by my fathers. The trails that were hacked away and paved with blood. My hands are soft, my spirit weak, my soul dieing, my mind in turmoil. I scream with no sound, I cry with no tears. It has ended, only to have it begin again.
The only freedom is a free spirit. Mine was shot down by the vangaurds of the destructors. I kneel. Forced into bondage and left with no escape. I wait for the end of pain and the end of my fate.
(I'm such a glory-hole!)
I am not a disobidient creature. Virtue is not my forte. I strive to live out the remainder of my sentence in some isolated corner of the mind. I disappear with every passing eion, only unaware that I exist. I embrace the elements where I reside. I envelop the essence that makes my vassal glee. Only, there is no warmth, no tenderness, no sweet carress, only damnation on the morning dew. I grasp at that which has not gone before me, but what has been lain after me. I am the latter, not the former.
I strive, I push, I cower...I...I...I cower, here, now, then, always. Cowering in the dark, waiting and watching for the isolation to end, to be destroyed by the chaotic elements that encircle me. I wait for the thunderous applause of the end. I want to be free of my muse, my destiny, my immortality. I want to look into the eyes of solidarity and know that they are there to carress my pain away, returned to that cold oblivion, and I, I left in the warmth of ecstasy.
Pain...Pain is a reminder of the fate lain before me. Or have I laid it at my own feet? I struggle with the imminent destruction of a worthless life. All before me, was lain by me, but not by my hands. To sunder I go, to the abyss I follow the trail left by my fathers. The trails that were hacked away and paved with blood. My hands are soft, my spirit weak, my soul dieing, my mind in turmoil. I scream with no sound, I cry with no tears. It has ended, only to have it begin again.
The only freedom is a free spirit. Mine was shot down by the vangaurds of the destructors. I kneel. Forced into bondage and left with no escape. I wait for the end of pain and the end of my fate.
(I'm such a glory-hole!)
posted by Crescamus in Christos at 2/23/2009 06:54:00 AM
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