Every hearth will feel the touch of frost
Every root will feel the thirst of drought
Every mouth will feel the sting of famine
Everything that feeds this life will vanish

Imprisoned by a dreadful shadow choking out all forms of loving light
One gloved hand around the throat, the other placed upon the face covering our eyes from sight
You’ll only know the cold
As we drift into time
The body becomes unknown
As we drift into time

Severing ties with the idea of the ethereal
These mental binds held for far too long
Anchored to a world unattainable
Attachments to realms unfastened within my mind
With shackles now cast off my being falls over the precipice
Toward an assumed graceless depth devoid of love
To be broken upon the neutral uncaring grey of stone
Roots can only take grasp and feed upon the corporeal
No mystical. No spiritual. No supernatural.

I make sincere attempts to engage and interact with the world
But most days feel like I'm watching it all through a shimmer, a reflection
The way the surface of water looks from below when you're gazing up towards the light
I am observing the world through that distorted view, seeing shapes and shadows
I am unable to trust my perception but I'm still reacting as if it is objectively true
So I continue, submerged, flowing downstream
Sometimes close to the surface, sometimes further below
Deeper
Sometimes barely capable of making sense of the things that I see
Regardless of my depth I still find myself in some degree second guessing everything
I still find myself struggling
I find myself suffocating
I reach for the shimmering surface, but I never really breach it
I can never interact with others or with reality without feeling disconnected, isolated
I can never interact with clarity, without struggling to understand
I spend every day living below the shimmer

Every day enduring the inferno
A spark born from the palms of my own two hands
A blaze to consume my flesh long after it chars my wills
This brittle blackened shell I have woefully become
Rend my soul
Cast me asunder

Before this looking glass, I gaze into my own abyss
This is the life spring of my every flaw
The birthplace of everything I truly hate
This dungeon of puss and piss
It oozes, and it drips, and it gathers around my feet
It cannot stand, these walls will crumble
I am warm here within this pool of filth
The lens has now shattered
I cannot stand
The pressure surrounds me
Is now mine
The filth around me
Is now mine
Fault that lies behind me
Is now mine

Listen.

Scorned by the self
Masking blame with our prayers
Our blood is the source of sorrow
Behold the secret of all things sacred
I am the key and I am the door
I am the misery
Failed by love
Failed by flesh
Failed by mind
The wood of this frame splintered by stress and time (a fractured place)
The hinges rusted and stiff, unwilling to budge (vacant and neglected)
The skeleton keyhole projecting a dim glow from behind that creaking door (struggling to emit heat)
A single burning ember in a cold windowless room (starving and alone)
How long until that door breaks before intrusive powers (unendurable pressure)
Before that ember is seized and smothered (overwhelmed by shadows)
A hissing sound as a final plume of smoke emits from the lightless mass (a lonely death rattle)