We are but a lingering breath in the
                                  void of existence.

When we exhale a final vocalization
                of our moments that shed a tear.

We are but a grain of earth that grows
                          petals. that will always fall.

Our place is in memory, we are but a breath
                                               
                                              in a grain of sand falling.

Caged within cellophane mirages,
              swimming on promises that suffocate.

With every footstep...

                     If only I had two more steps...  

Reality suffocates slowly...

Regressive are the faded receipts of
what I handed to myself...

They owe me an emotional coin flip,
Heads I'm
                  lingering in happy reflections..

Tales I'm just imaginary,
                                           And I'm fading...

Buoyancy keeps me floating above
a tide of seductive
                           deepening

I'm a stop motion venture that will
surprise you with a reality
                                       at its ending..

I'm there mannequin of echoes, they treat me
like a brothel, I'm used so many times, I feel *****.
Every time they exploit my subconscious I cut
ever so lightly to relive the memory of them.

They entrap me, a poster of my features hangs
tattered in my mind.
"Reward given have you seen these lost reflections,
I'm lingering within this lost and found motion.

I slumber in a collection of memories that are woven
tightly upon myself, I try to weave my migration from
this place to realities knotted grip. But I'm an illusion that's
never pulled from the hat, I see the impression above me.

I'm a mannequin of repetition, fondled seductively on
a bed of onyx petals. I'm seduced many times, I feel loved.
Every time they weave silken verses on my subconscious.
I'm hooked, and ever so slightly I recall those contorted moments.

I'm there mannequin of echoes, they treat me
like a brothel, I'm used so many times, I feel *****.
Every time they exploit my subconscious I cut
ever so lightly to relive the memory of them.

They entrap me, a poster of my features hangs
tattered in my mind.
"Reward given have you seen these lost reflections,
I'm lingering within this lost and found motion.

I slumber in a collection of memories that are woven
tightly upon myself, I try to weave my migration from
this place to realities knotted grip. But I'm an illusion that's
never pulled from the hat, I see the impression above me.

I'm a mannequin of repetition, fondled seductively on
a bed of onyx petals. I'm seduced many times, I feel loved.
Every time they weave silken verses on my subconscious.
I'm hooked, and ever so slightly I recall those contorted moments.

I'll stick my sword so deep within you
                                  our children will be knighted

Even before there conceived....