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I saw the world descend beneath a black pall breathing, seething |
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The unanimated now alive in murky, abstract horror |
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Upon the casket, lying in ruin upon its side |
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The writhing abyss obscene in the burning lamp's ghostly light |
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Stretching into infinity; the open lid reveals a view into the dephts of internal hell |
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Petrified by visions in this hypnotic interlude |
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For I am the deceased, within the crawling skin and sightless eyes as cold as death |
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Demons silently extract my sanity |
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The march of a funeral drum, beating |
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So like my blackened heart |
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May the darkness I welcome |
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Enlighten the enigmas of my faith |
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Solitary figure in the endless cycle of mortality |
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A self-constructed purgatory to languish in for time unknown |
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In this gloom-filled room, the true frailty of life is revealed |
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The spirit disintegrates long before the flesh is lost |
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The concept of eternity crashing down |
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Desperate to the believe in the unreal, for truth is the path of pain |
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Close the curtains; shed some darkness on |
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The intricate patterns that adorn this spectral carpet |
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Pity me such as I've yearned for, mourners gathered in solemn rite |
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Their misery was always my own |
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Breathe once again; the passages drone distant and detached |
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I shut my eyes and pine for the funereal essence |
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The presence of death slowly fades |
