1. |
Coin And Teeth
04:50
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Spiraling glass encases the halls of these token and purposeful forms. Placed here on dais...
Leaving all of these offerings would shed no truths, hung to the sacred material realm that forms this tomb.
A dominion of dread, a palm to an unblinking eye; no light may find it, form denied it, never known. Prying the hand from the iris it sheds no tears- gazing back at its witness it finally weeps.
The hand returns to the eye, companions, as one.
As straw thatched lodgings that rest at the feet of an aqueduct.
Coin and teeth riddled along the floor, shattered speech in echoed song...
"Vile observer giving light to birth a known. Honed in the mind, a sanctuary defiled and passed down in the codex of flesh. Only when the last mind dies will the lie vanish."
Born in the twisting labyrinth, in the yielding of blood. Repudiate to reconcile with the blood...
Rest on the edge of the blade, balanced to never find.
A hollow masquerade where the only truth is death.
Rest.
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2. |
Executive Functions
04:17
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Doleful mouth takes the pills. Recalcitrant mind.
Dopamine blind
Enmity Blind
Idealist pride and self abuse
On the wall hangs proud, a painted choking scene. Obedient child with hands clasped to its own throat...
Fall far from a sense of self, beg to be reflected in the lions eyes.
Fear thoughts of your own design, beg to be distracted, beg to be deprived.
Instantaneous stimulus reward.
Helpless lifeblood. The pattern continues.
The lie of 'here and now.' One ritual instant until the last breath.
Hiding from the vision denied by my own hand.
Worthless.
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3. |
When Once Found
06:34
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Fallen ashen dogma
Haze, drifting presence of wasted years. Longing to outlive this life I've abandoned with broken lives inside my own, seeking refuge.
On a path cut to distract from it's end; terror lacerating and infecting my mind, as it drags me through the murk of hypothesis.
The cold song of stagnant blood marching to the sound of its clock.
The call of the wind beckons home, but time has swept those castles into dust...
Frail form, this is not my host. Undone, this must lead me where stimulus won't: farther from the truth, ventured out into an echo and reverberating form...from a draped cloth in a shadowed hall.
And after years I gently pull the silken fabric clear.
As it falls it is revealed; a marbled face. A carved resounding instant that lives beyond, for when once found is lost evermore.
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