Blistering.
Towards the blaze I turn, forcing my hands out to stroke the psychotic mare’s burning mane. Blistering my fingers, intertwining them with the strands of fire that would ignite the grasses of the lion’s hunting grounds in another of our dwindling wasted moments…
So this is what it’s like to realize. This is how it is to believe the surreal.
The glowing red eye on the middle of my chest shows me that this picturesque steed is nothing more than another hidden splendour that only those who loosen the strains on their so-called sanity can comprehend.
What glowing red eye do you say? Why, the one that’s burning through your false personality as we ignore each other.
I exist, you exist. You’re a lie, we all are.
But to what extent will we go to remain a lie? Well, I think our ongoing end is ready to reveal that, and we are too afraid to let it.
We fear death, yet we are all massacring this world…our media revolved society….
We will end, that is that, but as we quicken the pace to our own realistic termination, we ignore it, each other, other beliefs, and anything that doesn't revolve around our own personal existences.
So this is what it’s like to realize. This is how it is to believe the surreal.
The glowing red eye on the middle of my chest shows me that this picturesque steed is nothing more than another hidden splendour that only those who loosen the strains on their so-called sanity can comprehend.
What glowing red eye do you say? Why, the one that’s burning through your false personality as we ignore each other.
I exist, you exist. You’re a lie, we all are.
But to what extent will we go to remain a lie? Well, I think our ongoing end is ready to reveal that, and we are too afraid to let it.
We fear death, yet we are all massacring this world…our media revolved society….
We will end, that is that, but as we quicken the pace to our own realistic termination, we ignore it, each other, other beliefs, and anything that doesn't revolve around our own personal existences.