• Menace Humanus

    I can't stand you anymore, It's me or it's you, the final lesson is approaching and it's winner has a clue, the loser gets to steal a life, to gain another one… Symbols are the compromises, the fear of hidden fun. I look to different circumstances, you choose it, and then you stay. It is me who isn't there, and you still get away. I blank out for a moment, you leave it for the weak, the concept of this consequence has sprung a sudden leak. Leave me feeling only guilt, and retrieve the pardoned life I've built. Break it all surrounding me, break this fragile reality, and leave me for the weak… Take my words and twist them, twist them just a tweak. Go ahead, feel sorry for yourself, feel sorrow for the life you shelf. Put away and disassemble, break away from it to assemble. What you've lost isn't here, you have left it all in fear. While I blank out for a moment, blank out just to speak, but it is you who has left this here, left it for the weak. The weak become the strong I know, rising, falling, first high, then low. Low down to the smallest notion, moving at the speed of slow, slower, slowest motion. I freeze to shatter this lonesome chatter, finding a way back, to the matter, at the hand and down the ladder. Forms, and empty phrases, decimations, of endless mazes. They are all here inside my mind, a point that neither you or I could find. There isn't any point to the matter, only the need to stop this chatter. Chatter leading on to find, what it is that's left behind. Parts of me, or shattered glass? Personalities by the mass. They fear me, to follow me, for I am the lonesome enemy. The one who fights with its self, who fears the life, the life they shelf. Blank it out for a moment, just enough to attain atonement. This concept of these consequences is the fear of different circumstances, there is no more life advances. The only thing that I'm gaining is that there's one life remaining. I choose a certain compromise, instead to lead a life of lies. Menacing, I come to find, that it was my mind that was left behind. Left it in the wake of fear, and I am never getting out of here. I gave up all my sanity, to break this closed reality. Reality that isn't mine, just a stand of tattered twine. Speaking left for the dead, I should have been the weak instead… For the weak become the strong, and winners become losers, why is it so, that beggars become choosers? So was it me, or was it you, who was the winner of the two? In the end who had the clue? Was it me… Or was it you…