Qed
dare to speak of hope and aspiration. these foul words, manufactured idols and the bait of lemmings. only futility is eternity. only one sunrise will tell

Salt Mine
there is prostitution in everything wrought under the sun. there is agenda that will bastardize and besiege us all. Within the in equation of ambition and subsistence file the sum less lines of the mortgaged. an annexation to the droning. insomniatic servitude to an infinity of misery

Corners
time does nothing but work against me. I wake alone and walk alone between the walls that insecurity has built around me. forced into circuits, into circles, into cycles. I find all my refuge in corners. it''s the only place where things meet

Dataclast
I''ve never wanted to admit the absolute and to its no absolution. that with much knowledge comes much anguish. that privity becomes Pandora''s plague. it is the iodine that indelibly stains. It is a lupus that disseminates and infects our being from the day we are born. Never will I sleep again until I''ve plundered every chapter and ripped out every page. I will slash and burn and salt the earth so that nothing will grow.

Blight Of Element
The longest battle I''ll never win. A scripture versed in the waning words of an already dead language. A vanity bearing unbearable exhaustion that prunes the heart and discolors the soul. My own worst enemy in which there is nowhere to run. The unabated decimation of self. Mine is sole witness to this never again

Talon Of Dominion
Let this stand as a monument to my abandonment and submission to the clutches of consumption. A penance of control for the iniquity of breath. It is irrefutable that we become apostle to mechanism. It is design that orchestrates the perpetuity of tyranny and doctrine of drudgery and toil. Talon of dominion, skewer of empire, as certain as the blackening of another tomorrow.

Unrequited Blood
When will we concede that there is an absolute significance deficit concept of the human being. The rape is indigenous to our existence and that already we can never and will never be able to pay the debt of blood upon this land. Burn alive all humankind. Burn it at the stake. Burn it as retribution for its blatant defilement of itself. Burn it for its never ending void of purpose. Burn it on principle alone.

Wartorn
These are the debit souls. Force fed notions of nation and bearing rags of sovereigns yet to fall. They play servant to lines in the sane. They are the shrapnel embedded in the womb of history and of all time to come. Wartorn is the unborn, the undead martyr. The life long crucifixion.

Sum And Substances
And if at any time it should fall, I will raise and carry the banner of hopelessness and lead its war. I would die in theatre for that which itself is infallible and undying

Riven
Here are the lines of the ultimate fabrication. The sickening irony of adhesion to unallied hypocrisy. Playing self written, wound licking roles in sob story after sob story. Scripts lie shredded, torn, riven.

Reversal Denial
I can no longer deny or disavow that there is a part of me that is a part of it. A process regenerated by process reciprocating godhead apparatus that never ends. A grip that wrenches and discards threadbare. A piece of that which I abhor.

Lithographs
Enumerate the nameless and the unarticulated. Falsify their saintliness and chisel them into stone. From the distance I can hear your silence and I beg you not to fall into this snare. Of the many things worthy of dying there are none worthy of killing. Read what is hidden behind the paper, color and tears. They are double edged. Here every life given is adorned with the guilt of a life stolen from another child that cries for a loved one they never knew.

Intravenous
Gagged and bound in pen and ink dead fall. The reiteration. The shallow depth of words that no one ever hears. There is numbness in speaking meaningless idioms to a faceless mass. I know the gridlock and the stalemates. I know insignificance all too well.

A Monument To Failure
The stories are always the same and the excuses even more familiar. Another generation of slaves and masters coughed up and reswallowed. Another stagnant continuum of the status quo. Increments of time are the barriers of this isolation. Over these walls there isn''t a life worth pursuing.

In Absence
Nail down in contempt all that threatens with thought or bother. A crusade of listlessness and obedience to prosthetic actuality. Our effortless evasion of efforts is the definition of complacency in its truest form. We idolize and defy with idle eyes and emptiness