A slightly insane kid takes on the challenge of life
He was a good kid
His eyes were mostly turned inward
And when they dared look to the world around
It would turn out they were accompanied by the most passive of hands
His peers would play in the sandbox
But the good kid
(Let us call him that without implying the others were not good)
He was separate he was whole
Instead he drove toy cars on the concrete
Passionately organizing drag races, the prize of which
Was a dopamine rush and a silent 'hooray' by his own mouth let out
The other kids did not care, but he, at his purest
Did not care that they did not care
It was not until later that he started caring
It was not until the inward eye looked outward once
And ceased to return to its former position
It was not until he was deemed a man
That's when things went south
.
.
.
A slightly insane man takes on the challenge of death
I lie amongst sentinels and violators
Kings and beggars
We are all the same
Tissue devoid of animation
I lie amongst brothers from the psych ward
As I used to know one, know one
Whom I owe one or owed one
Someone who I doubt has held onto life
Seven attempts to terminate an existence not much different from mine
This new home is a vista point
Housing the remains of a wild animal
Who beholds the curiosities of life from below
Nice to meet you, I used to be
I used to be
I am dormant yet watchful
Listening closely
To the desperate wails of my memory
Yet reverberating
There is a certain madman's focus, meticulousness I exhibit
There is a certain manic laughter by my mouth let out
I remember the bullies
Their faces are painted
On the walls
Of these sanguine halls
Frankly, I was bored
Hear me though, hear me thus
Am I bound to dissipate
By the sound of toads and crickets above the crypt
By the sound of songs of dusk
Am I bound to become dust?
Am I to succumb to the plague of misery
Or is there dawn head?
Is there hope within?
The dead only remain in the dirt
Because they were tired of all this earthly crap
And it is so warm and cozy
When the earth's inner core's hellfire
Provides free heating
It's so pleasant not to have to worry
About paying for that heat, or filing taxes, or missing messages
There is a spider on my arm
But the tiny one means no harm
Somehow, however, my vertebrae is itching
But I left my chisel in the corner of the chamber
This is no coincidence
I know just who dares pester
Lux, man...
Not even the smell of sulfur can soothe me
When you bother me with your nonsense
Of matters unfinished and memories of defeat
Let me rest
Is that not the whole point of being dead?
I told Lux
'Let me rest in peace or pull me under already'
My request he denied
'The bullies are gone, we need you upstairs. You need yourself upstairs.'
'Why would I get up if I see nothing but darkness before me?...'
'Wrong pair of eyes, bud.'
Have you forgotten?
YOU.ARE.SEPARATE
YOU.ARE.WHOLE
AS.YOU.ARE
Though Lux is confident in his demands
I am not wholly certain if I desire
To return to the pack of parasitic wolves
Who have only covered up their decrepitude
By pointing to that of another
But once
I sought not the pack, but one
...Not the pack, but one...
I gave it a go and returned enhanced
She was not as vicious as god painted her
A little too talkative, but otherwise alright
Sometimes the memory of an event is more of a revelation than the event itself
The dead both forget and remember, in that order
And perhaps I needn't try much further
I was simply ever curious of the other side
All I found was grass not so much greener
And if the bullies are gone
What's there not to love upstairs?
I
I
V
The risen and the fallen
The victorious and the bested
The blooming and the receding
I could've become either
Thanks to the most passive of hands
But not much before the bullies sent me to the afterlife
After the Elite Tauren Chieftain show
Matters had begun to improve
I could have
My head in the clouds, my feet out the coffin
My balance discovered and bound to be upheld
I could decorate the crypt and throw a rave
Draw the good citizens to my morbid image
Let them read my tome, or bid on curiosities from my nocturnal orbit...
I could make drinks out of my new contagious energy
Mine was not a moment
But an age of transformation
Step two followed step one in good faith
For the greater good of the self
Transformation - not from the dead to the living
But from the dead to the undead
The outcome is the same, but the manner suits my music taste more
The spider, the tiny one
Celebrates
The rise of the coffindweller
.
.
.
To a friend of mine and a grave enemy of himself
Believe me when I say this
For hell's sake
There is
Dawn ahead
Hope within
Believe me when I say this
For hell's sake
Love yourself first and be loved later
Forsan miseros meliora sequentur
