Z-Old Release: Anchor (Rituals in Practice)

Anchor (Rituals in Practice) please don't flee the depression soon shall be here I watch as all my thoughts drift away they pour themselves into miserable containers and no amount of coaxing shall drawl them out my mind becomes littered with life's trash half-remembered visions form cultural perception dictating my expressions and conforming my ways into an unnatural formation of what once were holy dreams I cannot help but laugh as the strangling occurs that which happens every night should be no mystery to you those nites when you awake and find me on the porch staring into the dark and only seeing further night know this that here the exquisite torture devices we all devise for our own private hells are in full force and wreaking havoc upon those grey brain cells no amount of caress can drive them away although the absence of your presence, of your humane smell that is all that keeps the wolves at bay as they circle and circle you become the beacon the transmitter through which liberation must come and the pressure fills your mind until you dizzy and faint and I continue to watch as my will becomes weaker to lose consciousness is the primordial sin and it is then all primitive urges and catastrophes strike go unto the land of unawares and discover the price of losing one's life There had never been any consideration of your deserting the journey fit for a queen and yet the whore becomes the star of the show you always knew your path from day one and I always knew my destiny would be this the depression is listing the ship to one side and I cannot warn you to jump in unspeakable horror no speech can beseech you who were once saviour now loses faith for you know your saved cannot come into your realm that realm where destiny frees you (for once) to seek your own karma and soon the metaphor transforms and melts away into dust in the [sand] wind's fury blinding our eyes as the storm exhibits its hatred of yon earth into our shelter we go hand in hand the genders blending and the lives our once transcend to separate now would only create confusion for both please stay and protect me from my mind games and ritualistic abuses and I shall become the anchor to your shipWritten October 31st, 2001 © on Oct 31 2001 01:45 AM PST, Michael Edward London    contemporary • dark • life • love • personal • sad • society • spiritual • thoughts