I manipulate existence How hard is that? Nothing never exists Processing a thought, an emotion, a concept Brings the exact thing to be What is the point of fighting? Existing exists, that much we know Existence never dies, only changes with assistance A sparkle, a birth, a life, a corpse All things just a stone’s throw No more a distance than love from abhorrence I manipulate existence I lift the stone and I throw Looking to you, my beloved? My hated? It is up to you to decide You manipulate existence
__Have you ever met a man Whose existence was your broken mirror Embodiment of stolen secrets Your psyche wouldnt let you keep You can swear you know the truth You can scream it to the heavens But all you can see is a projection He feels like you Did you birth him from your soul? That must be the only way All your foulest fears could manifest So now you sit in your fear Dont meet him; Dont trust him; Dont look For if he gazes in your eyes He can see your soul, your souls Dont see him; Dont touch him; Dont look He’ll take your soul for himself
__I think about you and my heart swells I am disgusted My soul yearns for a sententious bastard Nihilistic fantasies of noir and neon Begging for my hand, my fist, my mind His cravings blocked by a facade I will rise high above him, but as I rise I look back to him and plead to him Rise for me, fight with me My philosophy stems from you I think about you and my hate swells I am delighted
__A lonesome vampire sits, braced for the embrace of Day. Eons and eons could never wipe away the pain, pain of an uncertain eternity. Was eternity meant to set free or entrap? Are you truly free if you are stuck in the same state? Are you truly alive if you cannot really die? The only release is a Star so bright all others disappear. Isn’t that what the vampire craves, to disappear like every other lesser star in the sky? Day has tempted it so many times with beautiful words etched with sap and ichor into bark and bone, but it felt it could show the Day it was right, eternity was worth living. Each day, a note in a song. But days blur together and notes played too fast, and soon each week was a note and each month and year and soon enough life became a cacophonous hum and the Day has won, for a lonesome vampire sits, waiting to become one with him