lost_sanity

Through the eyes of the empty
2003-01-24 18:33:26 (UTC)

Through a broken mirror I see clear

Like an addict I search for my next fix. This never ending
hunger that growls from the pit of my stomach. Trying so
desperately to the fill the void, ever trying to keep the
reflux under control. Nothing appeases, nothing
satisfies, like a vampyre always heeding the call of the
blood thrist he always searches for more. The itching
under my skin, scratching, constantly scratching hoping to
smother the blood coursing through the veins to run dry and
remain where it is.

The agitation is not from the physical means of feeling the hunger,
the flow of rivers through the veins, but of the unknown. The
unknown of why. The unknown that seeps in and brings an uprising to
the appetite again. Where is this fruit that cures all, where
is that forbidden fruit that Eve brought to Adam, where is
this taste that trickles down the throat and eases all the
frustration. Oh sweet Eve bring another fall of man to me,
burn me from the sight of this sadistic and morbid test
given by the nameless. Sweet lovers where is thy drug,
where is that defeating taste you drank to meet again in
love, and where is this man that handed it to you with
care. Where are those voices that spoke to you from above,
those caressing voices, those words that called to you, the
words that eased and guided you to fate.

Has the incessant drumming and stammering of the falsehoods driven
them from here, or do we sleep so soundly that their whispers never
touch, so comfortable with our lies and our foolish pride
we no longer regard what those tender voices have to say.
God is dead and we have killed him, he turned to help
another and we drove this dagger into his back. And we
watched. We watched, so desensitized to it all, we watched
like a movie occuring in front of us, and we stood and
watched him topple. Bending over, touching the wound
inflicted, and smiling. Oh that smile that spreads across an
imps face when it observes one wandering and searching, and
knowing its cravings will soon be fulfilled.

We've killed salvation, we've killed hope, we've killed heaven. We
were in famine and to feed our selfish purpose and our
insignificant thirst for something, anything, to fill our
bellies, to fill our emptiness, our own void, we masacared
faith. Hahahahahaha..............what a silly thing, this
faith. The belief in something we cannot see, we cannot,
touch, and despite the vain words that claim to have felt
it I sincerely doubt they have. Forced this plastic smile
on a face that decays behind a mask, this fascimlie of life
full of a spirit. Is this the object of my desire? The
one thing that fills the void? Something that has withered
away, something we've murdered in cold blood? So, the empty
thought of faith is what fills the vacancy?

How ironic that nothing will fill nothing. How ironic that we try to
fill our glass of totality with the now barren faith and
decieve ourselves into being full. Its a anorexic cycle,
full of misunderstanding and distorted images of what is
real and what is merely fantasy. So much for grace. Come I
must have my daily glass




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