The words of fire.
The self sacrifice.
To our devils own.
Begin the march downwards.
And burn.

The possibilities, the chances, the causes.
The results
Forever rounded in time
The course
No straight path, revisit the past,
And that is the feeling.
When catching a glimpse of intensity.
When sights bridge during a seconds split.
And then lost.
Led by a mindless state.

Into the depths of the mind's abyss
There is no light. Sight. Lost.
Intertwining grips. Proceed.
Take those lost with us. Lead.
Bur round and round to nature's end.
The self,  of yours
Is where this loop ends.

Endless.

Separation Anxiety.
To court this phenom, we must first observe
Its grandiose stature, to which we will unnerve
For as permanent as the night sky may be,
Only its constellated decorations do we see.
And each single time we interrupt the night,
We initiate stellar parallax, and to our sight,
We see the shift of our feeling strangle
And find the cords of our heart untangle
To twists and and turns in heaven’s shrine
And a comet shall fall in my hands
Its all mine.