fingerlick

To be entertained

To be began

For all the dreams of waste

Is eternity’s hand

We always forget

As we never shy

The trials forbidden

Are the only non lies

Echoes of pain

Is a curse of forgiveness

We accept our dillema

To crucify our existence

The thanks one deserves

Are the testament of time

The horn of plenty

Is masculinity design

No one loves...
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In the times gone

We search the truth

As honest as it is

We bite the moor

Absent of light and bent to brow

Clouds fall like puzzles burning the ground

I step out,

As I breath in.

More than I’ve ever known,

Begins.

Timeless patience,

It’s the drive,

Echoing closer,

I all but fit.

Panopticon,

to this.