| You exist, dead star vacuum
|
| Dismembered progress
|
| Subliminal public display
|
| You insist, it reawakens
|
| A phantom floats behind you
|
| Its breath falls cold on your neck
|
| You can never bring it here
|
| You can never will yourself back
|
| The harder that you try
|
| The more your mind will crack
|
| You enlist, raw nerve rotting
|
| Control the herd
|
| Through light, image and word
|
| You resist, tasked to suffer
|
| Self-made martyr
|
| Drunk on tears of sympathy
|
| You can never bring it here
|
| You can never will yourself back
|
| The harder that you try
|
| The worse your mind will crack
|
| Kick against the pricks
|
| Reach into the past
|
| Through the thorns and glass
|
| Grasp onto the nothingness
|
| You dismiss the systematic
|
| Deny your evolution
|
| While acting like an animal
|
| You are the hands of Mammon
|
| Shape-shifting mask builders from planes of sterile trust
|
| Non-phototactic spoon-fed narcissists that keep clawing
|
| (never cutting through) |