| Dismembering the vision, an inversion of form
|
| To make a scourge of past prosperities
|
| Pure desires warped in the crucible of deception
|
| Bent to a numbing hiss
|
| The whispered drone throughout the shrine
|
| Submission in occlusion, drunk on masculine virtue
|
| Backs breaking to tend the fields just to turn and set them ablaze
|
| Bent to a numbing hiss
|
| The whispered drone throughout the shrine
|
| Retreating into isolation, the revelatory darkness
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| Where true nature is revealed—and strength is found wanting
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| Embrace aesthetic rigidities, adopt proscribed mores
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| Lay wreaths of blame, a desperate slip of guilt
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| Ever playing the mummer strutting on the stage of self
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| Seizing callous disregard
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| Assuming insensitive affectation
|
| Revolted joys, like foes in civil war
|
| Like bosom friendships to resentment sour’d
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| With rage envenom’d against our peace;
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| Desperate, restricting, sallow;
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| Pale and wan, crushed from the ravages
|
| My waning regard, reaching like a dying limb
|
| A dead limb extending into insensate space
|
| Still seeking the old friend, through the rent in time
|
| The one locked in the carapace of frustration and loathing
|
| Bent to a numbing hiss
|
| The whispered drone throughout the shrine
|
| Bent to a numbing hiss
|
| The whispered drone throughout the shrine |