Creations Mist

    Creations mist, the twirling spinning and falling down. Eternal rest and corruption sounds. Fear throughout and hindered minds. We all know the truth, but can we see. The melodies and the waves. Truth is a lie here, same as the ground is our sky. Fear these, fear none. Not worth fearing. Creations mist is only a dream, untill you die. Eternal spinning and falling down, down to the unforgiving ground where we wait, we wait for you with open arms not meant to catch you. And the ground to meet you with a jolt in the spine.

    I ask for help, I plead for mercy. Can you come and hold me can you come and save me? I plead...
Pressure points, you squeze the life out and yet I fail to find a safe place in your arms where the squeezing persists silently upon my temples...

    Black comes upon me. We fail to find the ground and drift for the eternity waiting for our souls. Caressing death's beautiful locks of black hair. I feel and understand now the consequence of our life. The price she paid and the end is near for us all, near to someone. We are but maggots in this world where a year is mere seconds to our beings.
    Sinister flashes and backlashes to the pupil. Sensory deprivation, an absence of being, and a rapt attention to personal detail, i'm sent into the way of a freight train of emotion. The bass drum is beating in my ear.
    We come close to death. We reach life's climax. We have found the way, the light we have found, a new place to die, and a new place to cry. Why not show me the way into this fray? Why not kill me too? The bass drum is beating in my ear.
Sequencers blink and red lights flash. A body sways to a quiet obvious beat, as hearts pound to the bass drums beat. The lights flash. We call to each other ourselves and reach a new height of time and place. It is our place, it is our place. The bass drum beats in my ear.
I wish your voice would beat in my ear.
    Her hair is wisping in my face, but of her I cannot find but a trace. Lights and the black room with which I fight. Were we meant to die or were we meant to get by in this depreciating and worthless souless heartless pointless lifeless evening black? This being which I am to par my wits with it's inevitable doom.
The bass drum beats in my ear.
    But what about soul, where your mind can be free without goals? Letting yourself go to the music, letting yourself go to its will, no power of your own. Give yourself up never to return. Where am I going and what will I do? I'm crashing.
I'm falling. I'm piecing apart. I'm dieing. I wish I were crying, but no tears can be shed for the useless. For every useless tear shed is a useless remark towards me. What am I?
    What happened? The tears are streaming. The blood is boiling. Have I finally lost it? Coveting my sanity and only to stalk it into the mist, where I lose myself once again.
The bass drum beats in my ear, and I lose it all.


-CPC 4/24/06 12:36-AM
---Revised: 11/11/07
---Thanks to queeneve for helping me revise this to its current state.