For knowing we must suffer
How ironic that our knowledge is the source of our struggle
Ignorance is bliss
Knowledge is suffering
The more I know, the blacker the void becomes
The more I know the more inevitable that end seems
Certain apocalypse closing in...Life’s flame flickers, sputters, fights to burn...then dies
For the oxygen is thicker than the cadence that the flame is accustomed to
And the wrath of god is our own sick self-torture
Encasing our minds in a torrent of glass and nails
Nihilism scorches what faith once warmed
Blackened, numb, dead, bleeding no more
Leaving nothing but the simple signs of lost hope
And broken dreams
Which ride on a cavalry of lame horses, clutching swords long broken
Dead eyes stare from cracked helmets, bones rise from sunken skin
They have become nothing more than a shadow of their own misfortune
A sick punchline to a humorless joke
Aimless they stumble to our side but at the snarls of hell's misery they recoil
Broken by adversity, their will as dead as ours, they are not our allies
They are a greater enemy then either heaven or hell can create
For they are our own brokenness, we gaze into their eyes and see what we have lost
We see doors long shut, dreams long shredded by bloody razors of truth
For they are our past.
Our past with no future.
For what future do these dead things hold
The promise of decay, of despair, of a fight long ago lost
Marching in to save us these soldiers tie our noose
And suspend us from the bridge of tyranny that our minds have created, using ropes long since broken by the strain of living
Hope, not what we cling to, but nostalgia for as our eyes glaze over, as lips turn blue, we see a faint light of what once was
We see before the knowing, before the insidious whispers of torture began
We see and desire, but may not have
For desire is the truest form of torture
Also the most sinister
For we are in hell and we hunger, hunger and thirst
With cracked lips and swollen tongues, the water slips from us before we drink
With contempt we struggle on with no hope for our lives, only for the pain to end soon
Death, in its comforting embrace, for no longer shall our eyes open to see the fading colors of life
No longer shall we know sin and desire
Nor the cruel touch of a scornful lover or the heart ache of regret
For through death, all life has purpose
No longer shall we know broken, twisted parodies of heroes nor love
We look to the black abyss, not the void of hopelessness, and we leap
And like the dream we fall but never land, in the arms of flight, of ethereal endings
The darkness collides with the light of knowledge leaving the black an even paler gray then that even of a cadaver's skin
The gray of apathy, of nothingness, of a vacuum that draws from our mouths the very souls we were foolish enough to try to save
Bleaching all hope of dying till there is not left but a sliver of an arrogant belief that our suffering would end so easily.
Lifeless yet feeling, blind yet seeing we plummet till there is no time left to fall.
What we know, all knowledge was our own ignorance of eternity, our fight for it, our fight against it
As death consumes, as the final suffering begins, we are drawn to the things we never knew, the things we could not know, things that draw us to heaven and yet drag us to hell
The very existence of our soul creates a greater torture than any we have ever encountered, creating bile in our mouths thicker than the blood pouring from our hearts
It separates from our lifeless bodies, from our twisted minds, and it is as though we are raped and robbed of the thing that tethered us to any possibility of hope
Like a silver bullet it flies from us but we are helpless to catch it as crushing agony fills our lungs with black, clotted blood
Creating a sad excuse of a person out of our flesh and sending it wallowing in our midst
Flashing our memories and hopes into the mind’s eye of something that can only be compared to blackest of dreamers
The very discontent of hope
And the believer of agony
This monster, this twisted parody of ourselves, this demon of the shadow
We shudder and recoil, for the sight burns our newly closed eyes
Its venom poisons our veins and we lay writhing on the floor, vomiting black bile of revulsion
Finally we look up to see that these monsters are who we really are
They are our truest form, our twisted belief in humanity laid out to mock us in the cruelest of ways, with the truth
Shivers fill our bodies as we realize that this is the hell we have feared, a never ending satire of our very existence
This, this and not fire, this and not brimstone
This is hell, the purest form of knowledge of the ugliness of what we are
This understanding creates an unbearable agony far beyond any imagined by the creators of the underworld
Tearing at out minds like a thousand hooks, glowing red hot with the heat of burning souls, twisted to form the torture of millions
Sending pain through every channel imaginable in the human form including those that are yet to exist
So this is the truth, to be sent to hell before we even know of life
For life is just a parody of hell, a weak heaven to prepare us for the bloody chaos to follow
The irony of living is nothing compared to the irony dying
We seek heaven in life, we seek a soul that never existed, that humanity with its gleaming metal scythe ripped from us before we even knew it existed
Creating a maelstrom of regret and hollow pain unfathomable by human minds until the cold hands of death close around their existence
And they lay there, as all must in time, choking on their own blood, tears welling up as they realize what their life has come to
The pleasures they once sought are no more, the rosy cheeks are now a skeletal pallor
Their hands are broken and their shoulders hunched as the weight of the black closes around them
This is death, an end to all means, an end to mortality
Yet the beginning of pain and suffering
Nothing in life means anything and the knowledge imbues us with inexorable despair
Unable to breathe for our metal chains of torture
Which drag us down into the marshes of chaos
Their locks are made so not even the strongest of steel can rupture them, leaving us hopeless and stranded on an island of our own thoughts as the black water closes around us
Filling our mouths with the taste of sickness and the feel of slime running down our throats
Glacial hands tear at us, leaving ice where our hearts once were, where our skin once was, the cold a fiery burn upon our flesh
We cry out for love, our last hope, our last ray of light remembered
To realize that we are alone
Love is no more than hedonistic vice and no soul but our own is here in this damned place
Sending us reeling into madness, spiraling ever deeper into the realm of insanity
Our hearts are gone; our minds left with not but their own company, starving for more than one thought...a thought other than escape
Yet it cannot come
For we have brought this on ourselves