| Written: NOV 11, 2003 |
Sordid worldly observations
Dancing from the hard word wolves.
Seeking to be lost in the enemy,
Where the moon can’t save me.
The skull sky serving as dark gods,
Fractional and specific limitations.
Tentacles of the known burrow,
Into the incorporeal to borrow.
Gaining my trust from itself,
I am rendered a laughing fool to me.
If only I could swim free of this shell,
Leaving the cancerous mortality at play.
Would I see the light then, the truth?
Or is it not our damming our potential,
But our last grasp at true consciousness?
Take me from here pagan princes,
And let me contemplate my end elsewhere.
