There's this thing,
    A swelling thing.
A feeling, beating. Lifely thing
    ...And...
There's this
     HOLE.
A Gaping, Raging,
Tense and Tender Hole.
  There is filling and seeping
And a mighty repetition
of both.
      There IS life and loss within a pulse.
     There are repairs
and still subtle cracks within the cold stone walls grow.
    They LINGER and GROW.
and grow
and grow
    But there  is no eternal Mason's in this wickedness
INside

A forest,
               intwined.
Of the blackest
               black strands
And brown locks,
That weaved together
In sad white corridors
We stared
without fear.

The wind chimes of a memory old
(Molding thru time kind of hurts)
Tempting the sea mistress,
And boiling the sea below the heart.
To cure anxiousness
Can you puke butterflies?
             -I need now desensitize
I know the spawn sleeps.
I know the soft cries of the seagulls over empty parking lots
As we sat enjoying sunsets.
Which never happened.
I've seen the pillars decaying through, though.
Yeah
molding through time kind of hurts.
Can't you tell.

Pondering the lifelong dream,
Of individuality.
Drip on through,and soothe me please,
Let me behold totality.
Lest Summers Fall,
And Autumns Spring,
Winter calls and church bells ring,
Among these crystalized prophecies.
The amount of chemicals that have passed, drained, seeped through these pours,
Were indefinitely, only self absorbed.
And the time it took, to become informed.
Left me scattered, secluded, and ever torn
And while I wait. I'll let thee mourn.
And think of a time before I was born,
And when I wait, I'll see the swarm
A swarm of hate, for I'm Sojourn.

He is the way into the city of woe,
He sees all dark deeds
but doesn't care so.
He'll take me wherever
I've been sent to go,
But at least someone accepts my sorrow.

Over the cliff and down, down.
When there is no more descending.
Styx, Acheron, and Phlegethon are one now.
And the Lake is unending.

I'll see them all.
I'll see them all.

Slowly the Shadow resigned,
To the place where all shadows drift away into nothing.
only to be let free at the different angles,
Shapes
And directions
An abyss
The great globe In the sky decides to give.
Odd how that is.
One such of different nature completely controlling the other,
On and
On
And on.
It's seems utterly to me, the mold should be broken somewhere along the way.
Lest history repeats, or
somehow escaped.
How structures can be twisted
Bent and morphed
And still show such beauty,
In the darkests warmth.

I've seen,
What seems to be,
A thousand sunrises in the least.
And each one speaks to me
Of compassion.
I left my shadow,
For the graveyard shift.
And each day it goes missed.
For who's a person,
Shadowless?