I thought I was a creator
On the day that I polished those reigns.
That I watched the movement grow and flow and coalesce into itself and one another,
An organization fixated on one cause, one purpose, ever-growing, ever-gaining
And the dreams emerge from the distant past and misleading future
Hoping to become nearer, clearer,
More of a real vision that would explode among the faces of a newly born human race.
But stop it, cease it, controlled chaos fleeing from itself.
All-immersed, all-consumed
Mutter murky, bitter words of inspiration through tunnels of perception
Vision, wonder
Never become, never be, but sit stagnant in the air,
Let it be
I thought I was a creator
Let go of the voices, the comics, the stylized version of life,
Wonder where those voices carry
How and when and where to turn
Misguided men lead us to a precipice, an edge of humanity
The deepening crisis is imminent
And our savior is blind
Our savior is blind because he believes to be merely human
He believes to be of a subservient suit,
In an inferior manner he speaks without words
He listens with blind ears,
Ears without sense, without logic, without rationality
And when I wonder where he went, I gag
I choke on the words, I choke on the matter.
I thought I was the creator,
The mindless fuck leading and being and seeing a vision for the future
For the present,
A built up nonsensical past,
As if it gets better, as if it seems and dreams and lets go of lucidity
You’re living it
Breathing it, being it
Nothing is deeper, it seems, it is
A tunnel is a tunnel no further than it reaches
In the distance, no nearer, no farther,
Whisper, wonder, simmer in the sun,
As if it leads one life unto the next, and again,
Under the stars
I am a word no further
Just as far as you let your mind be
