Eyes burning ’til the light of day.
During darkness these terrors won’t go away.
Fighting for survival against vices in physical form.
Each sunrise I have another version of me to mourn.

Will there be an end to this ritual?
Can I break free of my curse?
Stumbling backward embraced by a hearse.
A funeral march in my name.
Consigned to history by roaring flame.
Drowning in this suffering stage.
Unable to start on a fresh page.

Soul screeching for some peace.
Not afforded an opportunity to be released.
Squirming in a cage made of bone.
Don’t want to consider that these are my own.

Piercing through a veil of failed joy.
Suffocating under all that makes me ill.
No option for a period of still.
Boxed in with the only door locked up tight.
Four walls of despair lack any sort of light.
As mutilation screams in my ear.
I hope for an end to these mountains of fear.

Subjugation beneath a twisted sigil.
I’m a barely functioning individual.
With bonds cutting into my battered flesh.
How can I hope to breathe after all of this?

Swelling lungs are cutting me short.
This refuge is too far away.
As toxins fill my chest with gasping.
I know soon I will be crashing.
Fighting for moments yet to pass.
Alas there is only so long my strength can last.
With vision narrowing to pinpricks.
I’m determined to remain.
Even as my muscles scream that I’m already done.

Spores are liquifying all that I am.
Convulsions are exploding
My mind unravels as I thrash about.
Foam erupting from my crooked mouth.
Thought lost to terminal decay.
I hear sounds but not sure there is a reason to pray.
For end result is locked in.
These are my final moments before dying.

Waking with a fevered sweat.
Groggy as if I lost a drunken bet.
Faces staring with disbelief and astounding.
It must’ve all been a twisted dream.
Before I speak questions are fired my way.
Quickly I realise it was not a fantasy.
But somehow I’m still in the land of the living.
Is this a gift or a curse that I’ve been given?

Of the billions who have faced those spores,
I’m the only one not to go through deaths doors.
Yet tests define no reason as to why.
And so I have to watch as those who nurtured me die.
Knowing what they face each time it comes.
Be lying if I didn’t hope no one day I’ll succumb.
Even frequented a gun with my mouth.
Contemplating hastening what might be in doubt.

Particulates even fowled up the gun.
So I had little choice but to carry on.
That opportunity has led to a new role.
Helping protect those still breathing.
Seems odds aren’t as poor as one in billions.
More like one in several dead millions.
Abhorrent percentage all the same.
But these lost and confused survivors need guiding.

Six years later and billions are dead.
That airbourne plague has withdrawn.
Less than three thousand survived that disaster.
Now we are rebuilding a little more each day.
Honouring those lost to that time of terror.
Preparing for if it does ever return.
Immunity might not last forever.
But no matter what we will endeavour.

I’ll crawl on broken glass, just for one more chance.
But I’m all out of sand and stuck in this trap.
Fighting to keep my head above the surface.

Times are changing but never in a positive direction.
More I struggle the quicker I’m fading.
With lacerations all over my back.
Feel beaten like a rice sack.
Screaming with a voice on mute.
Each new catastrophe is something I can barely compute.

For war has become my one and only companion.
Not likely that I shall ever be a champion.
When resisting wears me down to smooth stone.
Leaves me cut off and alone.
Thrashing in my death throes.
Skin transformed so now it all does is cycle glows.

I’ll crawl on broken glass, just for one more chance.
But I’m all out of sand and stuck in this trap.
Fighting to keep my head above the surface.

State of being that continues to abuse.
Harder I try the faster I’m guaranteed to lose.
With a head full of stormy weather.
Flesh has been hardened to leather.
Yet still I’m being hollowed out.
Limitations to this suffering are in doubt.

Show me a sign.
Give me a break.
I’m owning my mistakes, so why are you crushing my life?
Is this retribution for something more?
Fuck you not allowing me to withdraw.
I gave you chances that you squandered.
Ask for the same and all I get is butchered.
One sided existence annihilating my brain.
My other side wishes to erase my name!

I’ll crawl on broken glass, just for one more chance.
But I’m all out of sand and stuck in this trap.
Fighting to keep my head above the surface.

Yet I’m the one who fashioned this madness.
Sick of my suffer.
Give me a blade.
I’m silencing your laughter.
Carving out your cancerous stave.
No longer willing to serve as my dark twins slave.

Creeping up my window pane.
Hardly even recall my own name.
For I am lost in ebb and flow.
Pulled beneath the surface by the undertow.

Sinking fast and failing.
Too much has been trailing.
In the abyss of me.
But now I see my purpose.
It’s time to deliver this void to entropy.

Sliding down this pole of life.
Deflecting away each item of impending strife.
For hate is not a necessity.
Time to combat violence in its entirety.

Defences built up strong.
Refuse to come undone.
In the halls of this abyss.
Continue to live with my purpose.
Of delivering this void to certain entropy.

Pause.
Hear the calls.
Vision.
But here it stalls.
For prophecy is by design.
And in these moments none can climb.
Fated upon wings of torment.
Remove this madness and make it dormant.
Otherwise days will pass me by.
Take time to stare decay right in the eye.

Falling quick without a chute.
There is no chance of a reboot.
From the heaviness of this abyss.
Moment has come to cement purpose.
Of sending this voracious void into its final entropy.

Hear the thud of a relentless beat.
Sick of hearing its droning repeat.
Like a hammer against my brain.
If it carries on much longer I might go insane.

Same shrilling voice reaches my ears.
Makes me wonder will I witness fears.
As mechanical voices replace organic.
That is when in sets my abject mountains of panic.

Turning up a volume that only distorts sound.
So intense it has become I feel it in the ground.
Rumbling foundations as if a quake has come.
Some might call me mean but this blurriness isn’t fun.

Rather listen than lose my hearing.
Quotes from a man who just wants to be sleeping.
But instead insomnia is gnawing at my periphery.
Converting patience into ill will.
If you don’t stop your blood I will spill.
With a dull razor and a mouth full of bile.
Name is menace better known as Kyle.
If you do not heed my actions will be war.
Do you really think you can resist my fist smashing your jaw.
Make take a couple but you’ll be out for the count.
Be sure of this promise unless you really wish to go a bout.

Backing down is a result that holds no surprise.
Rather be embarrassed then beaten alive.
Proves you do have smarts when they are needed most.
Because clearly you don’t wish to be turned to a ghost.

At last the air is still and I can now rest.
Put my nerve to the test but you were not the best.
That is why events favoured my way.
Otherwise you would have been buried today.

You want an era for your treachery.
Stitching signals that you don’t need.
While writhing in places you believe to be false.
This is where all your gods begin to revolt.
Taking shots at the crown you bestowed on yourself.
Preparing for wars against victims of the dead.
Counting crows that never sit still.
Marking off martyrs as if they were yours to kill.

For too long you’ve judged.
So now you must watch.
Torture’s a bitch.
And you are here to observe it.
Sadist on your cross.

Daring to speak when all words are ill.
Only thrill you seek is one involving a pill.
Demons are paupers in your cruel eyes.
To admit plans is to lay down and die.
For all of these speeches recite nothing but verse.
Repeat them too often will bestow a curse.
What a state to find oneself in alone.
You’re playing a game to retain your throne.

For too long you’ve judged.
So now you must watch.
Torture’s a bitch.
And you are here to observe it.
Sadist on your cross.

Where is the verb?
You dangled this lie.
Dividing with no conquer.
You search like you’re blind.
It’s as if you have no course.
Fumbling about.
What is this tactic?
It has one without a doubt.
For you were never this stupid.
Except when it suited.
So this must be a ploy.
Con you zealously deploy.
Playing all sides.
Perhaps to get a rise.
Anger and annoy.
Trick us into forcing our hands.
Show our cards when it suits you most.
While staggering around like a drunken clown.

But then it hits me,
Square in the jaw.
This is not some ritual.
A way for you to elevate yourself anymore.
You really are broken.
A toy with no function.
Something is different.
And it’s clearer than your twisted devotion.
See it in your eyes.
You’ve shifted in some way.
Can’t work out what is the cause until I see your body drift when light shies away.
It seems your past has caught up.
Hung you out to dry.
The great current catastrophe now a shell with sunken eyes.
What a turn of events that I did not foresee.
No need to embark on vengeance.
For it came knocking on your door without any prompting apparently.

For too long you judged.
So it made you watch.
Torture’s a cruel mistress.
You live with it every wretched day.
It’s made you a masochist in your once commanding body.

Walking amongst the ashen fields.
Where Nephilim meet their ends.
Little remains of these yields.
As society continues to bend.
Angels laugh at destruction.
Cursed beings of tortured reflection.
Murdering in the name of something holy.
Bare witness to this debauchery.
Choke on an eternity of morals gone blurry.

Impaled upon these spears of doom.
All eyes fixed and glassy.
Behind these pearly gates there is no room.
These sacred plains are not so grassy.
Divinity has been exaggerated for a cause.
All attempts to conceal the flaws.
Misdirection by not so omnipotent design.
Curating addiction to an ideal.
Mis-sold statements that will never align.

Creation of demons to bolster this tale.
Have to be villains to battle.
Devised for non-believers who must not prevail.
Otherwise the devout won’t stay cattle.
Serving at the feet of what is false.
They’ll search for the tiniest faults.
Embark on revolutions of hearts and minds.
Seek reality instead of fiction.
That will sever them from these historic binds.

I couldn’t care less.
About the way you love scheming.
I couldn’t care less.
When you try to push your views.
I couldn’t care less.
That you feel life’s unfair.
I couldn’t care less.
For you’re the one who put yourself right here.

Starting fires just to get attention.
Cycling through these latest trends.
Pinning your flag to what is popular.
Everything about you screams that you’re playing pretend.
Isolating what you think will make you a star.
No lie is to big if it helps you go far.

I couldn’t care less.
About the way you love scheming.
I couldn’t care less.
When you try to push your views.
I couldn’t care less.
That you feel life’s unfair.
I couldn’t care less.
For you’re the one who put yourself right here.

Natively trying to incite a war.
Hostility is all that you feel anymore.
Siphoning away joy for torture.
Nothing resides here but pain that you brought her.
With mother nature in her final death throes.
You offer betrayal veiled as prose.

I couldn’t care less.
About the way you love scheming.
I couldn’t care less.
When you try to push your views.
I couldn’t care less.
That you feel life’s unfair.
I couldn’t care less.
For you’re the one who put yourself right there.

And now you seek remorse.
Too late your brutality has run its course.
Damned the world for your own survival.
Now mortified at the scale of reprisal.
Yet showed no mercy in these moments.
Grew fat from strength despite warning comments.
Consumed anything that entered your self decided domain.
Took until all that remained was your sick game.
Only to strip that away to leave nothing but a world gone insane!

I couldn’t care less.
About the way you’ve loved scheming.
I couldn’t care less.
When you tried to push your views.
I couldn’t care less.
That you’ve felt life’s been unfair.
I couldn’t care less.
For you’re the one who put yourself right there.
Inviting in despair.
Ruining this life for everyone.

You’re going off like a cluster bomb.
One false step and I’ll be a victim.
Never sure what might set you off.
All I know is that you are wroth.
Spitting flames like a demon.
Ready to swing at the slightest thing.

Two sides to every story.

Persecution is a complex you hold.
Where you should be tender you are cold.
Blocking out what doesn’t fit your mood.
Voicing only opinions that are crude.
While playing victim for affect.
Espousing how all I offer is rage and neglect.

Relationship of twin toxicity.
Each side hates in perpetuity.
Vying for something that will never come.
Peace is devoid when both are hating the other one.

Regret dances around my form.
Uniformity continues to be wrong.
These events are secured to the past.
Haunting memories when they dare to pass.

Am I the fool for believing in hope?
Mistakes taking hold of what lies on wait.
You’re gone but not forgot.

Silence rings in every fired relapse.
Triggering what I can’t retract.
Rousing thoughts of what could have been.
Integration by miraculous means.
Never parting away from its core.
Getting carried away as if it’s law.
Energy spent didn’t change a thing.
Removal from this sphere of communicating.