We are the sacrifice for a future we will never touch but could always see until we could no longer hear the animal caged inside us coughing up dying breaths of crimson entangled in visions offered to the next generation arousing into an epiphany; blind, deaf, and dumb, I still breathe again, clear the conscience, clean the slate, and condense into clay to be stored, molded, and cast in fire drawn from a match that struck a stone that lit all that beauty and all that is beautiful to all that see and blind I still see. You fall past bodies torn apart and stitched together into arrangements hanging from tissue lining viscera alongside pale skinned wide eyed nymphomaniacs in cages waiting to be desecrated and have their gaping splendor captured and cast in stone for later generations to admire for eternity; fall past angels encased in sculptures written into scriptures that lift with the rising tide crashing into sentience flooding the subconscious paralyzing and suffocating all of us unable to swim still but bowed down forever fixed towards the lifting eyebrow. Up, down, and in reverse gravity strong enough to collide heaven and hell coincides to wake us in bed confused and condemned to a future I failed to anticipate and still have no intuition on except I am alone and receding from what I once loved, admired, or saw something special in.
I become 1 and divide into trie, a sun and sea, a holy trinity, a particle wave duality. Nothing is never complete, no number is greater or less than another, something is always lost in the compression and translation.
All fallen angels rise, unsheathe the past and watch your future self watch you watch those around you pull you to the surface. Let light flood the tunnel and bring into perfect clarity who we should be, collapsed on the floor foaming at the mouth while carpet fibers scratching our bare skin overload our senses until we can no longer remember who we are or how we grew into these shells holding all our mistakes, weakness, arrogance, and fear; waking with tears in our eyes from a dream before facing another day of work revisiting all the avenues that could have led us to a life not surrounded by soul stealing machines full of self-destructive shame, hate, desire, love, happiness, and no regrets.
Every decision and indecision haunts me. Every letter is like a seed I've cast into a subterranean river. What swims beneath the murk? How deep can the spirits hunting me down see? I know there is a mix of characters to make sense of this senselessness, provide repentance and atonement, and right wrong.
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There is horeifying beauty in the eye of the beholder, and the rising tide lifts all ships, to be swallowed into the jaws of the sea.
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