6 May 2012
There is a knife deep in the engine that pumps my blood My heart it's own destructive beats the rhythm of loss I peer into the mirror to find a distortion of my own image My eyes float around the room like two ships lost on the sea and I know the exact measure of my captivity This pain has an operatic grandeur Smoky circles of thought attempt to combat the fog and seek out my polestar
I will not be placated, by the mechanical motions of existence as all around me are criminally irrelevant My hands are nailed, one to love and the other, to pity
I wanted you- you are the one I picked in the world But still, you hover around your murder And I cannot call you to finish the kill but neither can I revive you.
You are not here.
Captive • Opuss № I