There's a glass wall separating me from my world and I've been banging my head against it.
But it would not break..
A strange reverence and I awaken with sweet indifference to my corruption..
When did my world disown me?
Were my senses too exhausted to function?
My head too cluttered to think?
My heart too dulled to feel?
My capacities too stuttered to flow?
My being too numb to probe?
And how does this rot blossom?
Where does it take root?
Who gives it its soil?
Who nurtures it, waters it, blesses it?
How would you measure the absurd?
How do you express the lack of expression?
When did colors lose their immensity?
When did living lose its essence?
What gods do you bow down to?
Which gods would you look up to?
What grand constructs do you take refuge in?
What pretty moulds do you harden yourself in?
What redemption do you find in this unweeded garden?
A strange reverence and I awaken to sweet indifference in my corruption..
I find myself blossoming in this rot..
