the pain of knowingI hear a scream in your breath.I still see the wounds that are now healedand the weapon to match them.I can see dry tears in your smiling eyes,and the reek of a roaring painstill infects my nostrils,even if cleansed from all others.Not a drop of your blood has touched my tongue,but I still taste your anguish. I vomit to it.A graze of your hand, I feel the scarsthat faded long ago.There's a pain in knowing, in friendship, in family.And when you inflict it, it feels more harsh to you.
only a dreamShe lays down my weary headin a cluster of hopes and fantasies.Let my falling tears fly,and my silent whispers of despairecho across the realm.Soft, airy kisses soothe me to sleep,or at least a content state of rest.My muse of my love makes no sound,mute comfort she speaks to my ear,as that shade,that sillhoute,her transparent figure, opaque to my eyes only,cradles into me a sense of calm,and I cradle back a body existant to me and me alone.My faded illusion of a world revolves round one thing,that sun in a familiar form,that smiles a soft glowand converses a warmth into me.But my world becomes cold,as it plummets into a dark distance from her,torn into a black hole of conciousness.And I'm back in this wretched reality,I'm no longer in a world that's my own,a world where I'm the sillhoute, I'm the shade.I make no sound, to her,I can only offer a mute comfort,and I'm transparent to her, opaque when she chooses,It's her world, where I'm the faded illusion.And I
mans progressIt is the year 3011 and a young child and his father are at the museum of the human race, and are looking at a painting of the sun and the sky.SON: Daddy, what's that meant to be?DAD: That, son, is the sun. It's an old legend, back from pre-ant rule.SON: What is it though?DAD: Well the old tale says "The great yellow orb, that floats within the sky, the size of a thouand moons, the appearance of a small fly".SON: What does that mean?DAD: It means that it is very very big, but since it's in space, not on earth, it looks very small to us.SON: But the great Zurk said there's nothing in of space, and anyone who says there is goes into the special building.DAD: Well there isn't kiddo, it's just a myth.SON: But daddy, what's the sun for?DAD: Well the legend says that when the sky was blue, it would appear, and provide light and heat to the world.SON: but the sky doesn't go blue! It's grey! And we get heat and light from the power orbs at home.DAD: That's right kiddo, provided by
fear of, fear for.I'm scared of this worldand I am frightened for it.It's sad fate seems fit.
reliabilityDoubt electronicswith no reason for trusting,but doubt man further.
one brief moment out of lineWe go one brief moment out of line,one sly, sadistic slip of the tongue springs out,fuelled by stubborness, propelled by resentment,and a blazing rageincinerates the bridges built.We fought over a thoughtand the line began to waver,and failure,between the bonds of trustwent into effect,leaving them sliced away,and a fury unleashed.It leaves one as the patriach of pariahsand the other unfairly just,and the fire spreadsthrough the populationsas a bent, as a brokenform of the story.Soon enough truth is cagedin an imprisonment of insultsand traits and charms are dismissedby the hurling of judgement and scowlsand left there is the shell of a friendweeping in isolationas the other rejoices in choosing temptationto destroy a reputationbecause of an untimely anger,because we went one brief moment out of line.But the ghosts of anger cross over,the storms of judgement is soon struck upon another,and soon enough,the are bonds retightened,the hands that lashed soon