Tell me,
What do you see?
Tell me,
Will I be free?
Do you, feel what I feel?
Make me, feel how you feel.

Mother.
What do you see?
Do you, see what I see?
Is this, how you saw me?
Will you, ever see me?
This way, yours, who knows? Maybe?

It's tendrils sneak round,
Cutting and soothing,
They wrap up the the pain.

A tightness, a feeling.
A familiar smile on crusty lips.

A breeze, pumping through the eyes.

The hand to the head, the massage.
Familiar. Rooted deep.
Gripped, soothed, sweetened.
Dripping, eyes wide.
The oracle awakened

'it comes'.

Take me to paradise
Simple paradise.
Wholesome paradise.
Lonely paradise.

When you wake up in the pits
And you remember, life is ****
It's a ****** ditty do-dah time for you.

And when you clamber out the pit,
And you really smell that ****
It's a ****** ditty do-dah time for you.

Looking back down at the pit
Thinking down there was the ****
It's always a ****** ditty do-dah time for you.

Is it self loathing?
Even a warped self awareness perhaps?
Maybe, maybe not.
Maybe its acceptance.
The forced march forwards to inevitable doom,
I am the war council and the soldier.
I am the battlefield and I am the on winning side,
For if I win I lose and if I lose I win.
The world is the house and the house will always win.
Funny, it seems. Absurd almost.
How much I just don't care anymore.
Empathy eaten away.
Pacman running rampant, severing the ties that bind myself to this war.
Godhood, ascension. A lobotomy to save the flesh from its commander.
We'll go over the top soon I'm sure, we can't hide in this trench forever.
We'll see the sky and feel the warmth. The bullet ridden carapace a legacy with an eye on the abyss.
The struggle over, no capitulation.

The anxiety and excitement is palpable,
Gnawing at the mind, claw finger probing.
Who cares which entrance just shove in!

'please take a seat and wait sir, your journey will begin soon'.
Relax and take in the scenery as light comes alive.
Is the expectation.
The reality is crushing and humiliating.
Dreams shredded. Hopes shattered.
The plane did not leave the run way and disintegrated into a heap of disappointment.

Time to book a different flight.

The eye on upon the eyes, the eyes upon the mausoleum. The eye upon the face of God as it seeps throughout your veins. The eye upon the crowd that marvel as you linger with your tincture. The eye upon the heart, beating, slamming against the head. The eyes upon the audience, that watch as you watch. The iris in its garden of Eve. Iris in the hole. Dark horror beware because the gecko is in town. Watching on the wall.