lost in a roman... wilderness of pain

we have assembled inside this ancient and insane theatre
to propagate our lust for life and flee the swarm of wisdom's restraints.
the barns are stormed, the windows kept
and only one of all the rest
can dance and save us from the divine mockery of words.

- James Douglas Morisson


a cold, black calm moving stealthily through the still, empty darkness, filling it with cold.

it learns to rhyme and dances through the slow, damp in short, quick steps.

it is filled with gold and red and black. it is dead against a rock.

it is abrupt when it moves but it's always been there.

there was a time i used to think it wasnt real, but here it is. and i can see it.

now i can feel it.

standing. barefoot. on the cold, dark road. there's a light in the distance. it is moving fast.

but not fast enough.

cold, hard metal feels cold, and smooth in my hand.

and now it's soft, and now it's fast. now it's slow and now it's hard.

lets all rise.. lift me up in your strong arms.