Nerve Bending

["Hope in reality is the worst of all evils, because it prolongs the torments of man." - F. Nietzsche]

A slow aching, bled dry of pain.

The pace of life sedates the sane.

Lure me into the fury of absence,

Let my train of thoughts collide.

In a trance of confidence,

Stirring up, I breathe cyanide.

Drawn in my horns, a stabwound slow-dance.

Holding on to a dog's fair chance.

A slow aching, bled dry of pain.

The pace of life sedates the sane.

I myself, I am a cold element,

But I contain a living flame.

Fading in, fading out,

Last visit for a long time.

While a legend lingers,

We pine away, into clime.

The wish is father to the thought,

The thought is father to the truth.

Ignite the imagination and take it far away.

I grieve over things that end,

Nothing in line to succeed them.

They become a part

Of the horrors I hold in my heart.

Neatly pealed all layers off,

Searching a stain to expose,

Lay bare imperfection,

Grow aversion, then dispose.

Now your self is bare,

In an instant flare,

If you have tears,

Cry elsewhere.