Just above the water's surface the looming fog is menacing. Still as glass the grays wash out all signs of life and consciousness lies asleep somewhere in the sands of time. Walking blindly through this patterned life, a voice without words to speak. Paved pathways leading right back to the start and no concept of a life once lived in hope. Eating crow and swallowing knives, shoveling shit just to stay alive. Feigning interest in anything in lieu of these half-lives we lead. Nothing is holy. Nothing is sacred. Nothing beyond the sky. Nothing awaits us but a hole in the earth. Dirt won't save your soul. I want to bathe in the light instead I'm swallowing knives and walking blindly through this patterned life. And I'm left with a voice without the words to speak. Nothing is sacred. Nothing beyond the sky.
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