11/8
my dreams are littered with futuristic ruins from unbirthed seeds
where the horizons plummet;
where my father drifts in simplistic lullabies;
where my saturated mother becomes the sahara;
where the moon hoards space runaways
rome will once again collapse (this time he won't land on his feet)
and the west will be smothered with nuclear decay
(isn't that where jesus stood when the rooster rung his bell?)
there will be a sophisticated obliteration of
complexity, sin, and the species that went from dirt to the stars
(come on mozart, show us how it goes)
anatomical principalities are led out
before me like items in a yard sale
i can choose to assemble my structure
with the flourishing grains of advanced development,
or i can choose to compose my veins
with the silver blades of annihilation
(which one costs less? you only got six bucks on you)
the right and the left
opposite paths merged by opposition
the right and the left
a miscalculated scale,
which only one team can win
(how did we go from Black to rotten orange?)
i choose the compass,
which guides me up
past the north,
towards the true north
(that's not on the map)
use your mayflower and go up
till you see the divine, but doing so
shall shatter the fabric of the world
i go up and leave the dust behind
the End echoes throughout the corners of our dimension
and Gaia crumbles with humanity trapped inside
(what will you do when humanity crumbles?)
i will do as my father did — i will create!
(and what will you create?)
(a new home, a new system?)
(a new Beginning brought by a new End)
did the Creator ask himself the same thing
when he made the folds of the universe
and the majestic objects that consume our sky?
no, he created and i will do as he did — i will create
-
i'm so happy and i hope that you all are too!!
