Searching for solace in a toxic temple; fragments of lead climbing through your head; stones load your coat as you wade through the winter current - dancing with the dead on the riverbed; wanton hanging of the wise pale king. And I see myself.
Here we dream in a bed of seamless sleep. The rain never wakes you from your descent. Sinking through subtle waves that disguise the current down below. You’re pulled in the undertow.
Intricate: I watched the world dance inside your head
Ephemeral: everything created must expire
Misery: Losing hope for a dying world, or did we lose hope in ourselves, my ineffable?
Words lose sound with every fathom, further down.
Torn between two worlds - floundering in a state of metaxis. One is waning one is dead. In both we feel too much… we feel too much.
Intricate: I watched the world dance inside your head.
Ephemeral: Everything created must expire.
Misery: Losing hope for a dying world - or did we lose hope in ourselves, my ineffable?
Most nights we merge into one dream; you mouth that four word sundering - soundless, but somehow deafening, “I can’t go on.” I’ll strain my voice to make you relent, but the tide holds me in my dissent. We’re bound to each other in the undertow. You were my ineffable.
