Tell me what"s wrong and I will tell you the exact same thing, but different.
Does the pounding of my heart make you uneasy? -The mystical oscillator which determines both my living and my death by meticulously counting the number of beats remaining before it stops...
Is the rhythm of my raising and lowering chest too sickening to you?
Are the deep low-paced breaths entering my mouth and my lungs making me all squalid inside by your ethernal presence just another excuse for your longing to vanish for the rest of all time?
Does the ethereal pondering of mine reflect too much intimidation?
Is the sound of my shallow gasps, which are rather of euphoria than agony, unbearable?
Is the nature of my being too much to take?
Is it too little?
If you should mystify and deflect rather do not say a word for silence is the very first step to entirely new pernicious existence...
And I will promise you that nothing will stay forgotten.
And believe me, when I say
that the tormented Animal lying there in agony of dismay,
experiencing angina pectoris with horror mortis in it"s eyes
is more pleasant to look at than the mourning Sun
collapsing with Earth in tempered light and leaving the world of millions of Minds acting as one-being one in the gray skin of mouldy ash
abandoned and by itself.
In this sad, lost Paradise, which used to be Heaven and Hell as well,
the flowers of sacred Sages and forests of Ceder trees
are being raped by sickened air and poisoned water.
The tide comes and takes everything withing it"s reach of the land
leaving nothing but the blackened soils
and the squalor and downfall so immense
no mind could ever comprehend
looking down from the ailing faces of gargoyles
full of obdurated rage and rotten smiles.
Breathing-in the sulphur of the spheres,
which were never meant to be ascertained by the human sense,
makes one wonder upon this relinquished, bleeding world.
The mind astonished by near death experience
would seem to be defeated by despair
over this incomprehensible apocalyptic vision...
For the life, however infinite, is destined to come to a certain end...
...once again.
And I ask.
Is it too much to take?
Is it too little?
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antifunebracka
3. 1.januára 2017 16:31
Xactly.
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