Monday, December 15, 2003

Brands of Illusion

I am a house, burnt to the ground, driven into the sultry earth by the torches of the convictions I keep.

Try them on for size; these shoes have traveled through years of experience, only to be worn to the souls by ignorance that remains.

Meet me soon, by the stream, and feel the waters power, to cleanse, to drive you under ground, to lie here with nothing left to say, hum the tune into eternity.

Yes and I have now justified my existence by accepting yours, letting you into this reality only to be told that it does not matter what you say.

Lines that have formed on the walls, and into the depths of the underground halls that hide the silence and the screams.

Present yourselves into the light, that brings with it it’s own brand of illusion.

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