Psychomachia
To go through the same continual machinations. You are churned
through horrid heavy wheels of same. Flesh is hanging limply from
body. Never questioning self. Answers come from self. Forget what
you know. Secrets lie in perception. Zombies who walk among me.
I am vast wasteland filled with creativity. Hidden horrors lurk in
hidden shadows waiting to steal from me the only thing I truly
have. Lost are those who travel in forests of bones. Only to gain
that which is insane. Faces come from walls of sordid pain to haunt
my shattered existence. For what is this life, I ask myself? To be
churned again I say.
Lost am I in a world I cannot return from.
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