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The Deep I could write my mind, find answers unheard of, but the answer is just one word. I found it at one time, a beautiful completion in that sign, a solid reason to say what it was, life was real, a time when one could honestly feel. A year in perfect hell, left me once again unsatisfied, searching for that word again, the source of my souls depletion. These billion bits of mind, can't hold or give me fix, this time is not for hell or heaven, and it's not for love or relation, it is silence inside of me, it's a filling incomplete, I throw out words and emotion, screaming to separate the unsound. I seek it once more, that underlying understanding, that perfectness life only finds periodically, consuming sexual lust now meaningless as the serpentine dust. my substance lacking shape, alone and feeling fake, reformation proclamation this may seem, dead-eyed damnation feels more like it. confession to confusion even as the sun brings definition, letting out my soul and mind becomes soon wholly pointless rhyme. life must be a fallacy, something caught in a catch-22, it doesn't get to decide when it wants to get to die, this foreign sign feels so familiar. this shouting doesn't contain my message, my life won't see it's end until it's much too late, life lives out this upward fight though forever seems much too short after awhile, lets get this straight.... the end is never further than we see the beginning, whether a means to an end gets you there or not, your loses stay the same, if you ever get this just set down, realize the scope of which I speak, and see out from the enveloping deep. the color and the black, the tension and the slack, the broadness of the fall, and the mastery of it all. |