1. |
Microsleep, Pt. I
05:46
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Directed by that which we don't understand,
In an age of annual fears
Hallowed is the vase,
Semi-concious creatures,
Swirling, cursing the creator,
An empire behind their teeth; a dominion
Cystic figures,
Fibrosis and it's dancers,
Pulsing in a perfect sonicity
Populace numbers programmed in rhythms,
Their neurons decay, fade with disuse,
The surplus is science,
It beats without closure
And I saw the string which drew them together,
The web which forever could not conjure,
Motionless objects; spheres of chance
Now we are the machine
We are the malignant growth
In the garden I dreamt of infinity
Time will impair the fleshy structures building machines
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2. |
Somnolent
02:26
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The most intense meditation, in the shortest amount of time,
Awoken by irritable questions, inflicted by my own detachment,
Snapping back to this realm with a matching irritable yank at the neck,
Trails of incense all around my being, seeping into each and every single pore
You’re wildly beguiling, and I'm avid for your adventure
"Desist my dear" said Neptune unto Moon,
This is beautiful, like the swan but not so,
For this does exist, so choose to believe
And not to define me, not to fear
You're wildly beguiling, and I'm amidst our adventure
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3. |
(per)severance
05:38
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A sleeping silence, seeping from a place
Too close to where life is born,
Where rebirth spoke to renew,
Innocence only owls knew
Daring to whim, void to our very own
Metacognicious hive, imposing and questioning
How well can you hold your own head
When the stars are ominous tonight?
Begotten by miscommunication
Atrophying
Heartfelt
Context
One's love
Phantomed by the sun
Now hated by our ghosts,
For ghosts are what we made them,
Now hated by our ghosts,
The sleep that we forbade them
None could see what now made unscare,
Only winters sky to take one there,
Mass left out in rain and time,
To dance, to drug, to dry sublime,
And to teach what one was never taught,
The adherent to ones distraught,
Has the loopholes a lawyer could pluck with his teeth
Meaning is not the name of the game one plays,
While crawling through broken glass
All occupations come to an end
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