death has fallen like the decayed fruit;
the shores have frozen,
and our bones are shivering
dark-blue; a shadowy world with beauty as it faded
there is no promise under the oak tree
nor the wilderness of the flowers
nor the maples on lashed dead rocks
there is no promise for me or you to keep.
Abstraction. Aren’t we brutal?
animals kill, kill, kill
skin, bone, flesh, thought,
and we axe ourselves
to the most distant illusion
us animals, we kill, kill, kill
ourselves each day
more than we ever know
soon memories disappear.
upon every movement
instinct buried deep
an eternal hunt for desire
when all we have is an isolated existence
displayed in the sleep by a cherry fire
we’ve made for a lost god by summer’s end
for in the golden fields,
before life or after death
fiefdom of earth and memory
dissolve in the subtlest mask
reunion of consciousness and self,
the surrender in whole mind
far beyond the mass of thought
that kills identity in the old, shadowy world
we come apart,
acedia, the arch of a single death
without even have dying.
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A/N: I was really inspired with the thought of how we use different masks in life and how it is correlated to who we think we are as a whole. Are we who we truly are under the mask? Did the mask become us? This piece was also inspired by romanticindeed’s thoughts on one of my poems that made me ruminate about this concept much more about the consciousness and how we can fool ourselves with our own inner lies.
I also was really enjoying “Video Stalker” by Mega Drive while writing this. It’s a great instrumental, in my opinion.
Do you listen to music or albums when writing? If so, what do you listen to?