Shadows on a Fragile Mind by Aphotic Sunrise

Momentary lapse of sanity.
Glimpses into a realm long forgotten.
An unfortunate co-existence.
Why must I see this place,
why is it called schizophrenia?

Room starts to eat itself away,
like a projection movie,
getting burned, while it plays.
And the insects, they crawl,
I feel them, even now.

And the stars play with my mind,
Knowing in Silent Splendour-
that my Faith is long since gone-
and what is to come,
as the sun burns, a bright shade of black.

The Mysteries of the Universe,
wonders of the World...
The secrets are unraveling,
and I am to become,
an Ancient One.

The gifts of Wisdom and Knowledge,
as handed to down to high Priests,
now passed to me- my Body, willing.
Soak it up like a sponge,
I must learn while my mind allows.

Fleeting glimpses into eternities,
past lives and silent symphonies.
Everything's on mute, rewind it again...
The scene plays back,
and my Sight, my mind decays.

And maybe it's paranoia, but I know...
I know that they're watching-
not wanting me to obtain this knowledge...
For I am powerful as I am,
and if I were to traverse realms....

A haunting green and grey- rotting.
Parallel existence awaits,
embracing me gently, then tossing me aside.
And I know they're watching.
I lay still, waiting for a sign.

And then, the starting realisation,
finally, I've reached the epiphany.
There is no other world, no other-worldly.
There is but one unfortunate co-existence,
and it is all right here.

The Realms, seperate- yet, intertwined.
Small bits of Insight revealed,
when I look into my mind's eye.
See and feel no longer, only to know,
such is my Destiny.

The Fates ever weaving, ever weeping at my plight.
Comes full circle, Maiden, Mother, Crone.
And now I see them, even now.
No way to explain the sights,
save, that they are indescribable.

Flooded with haunting colours.
My mind overloads, I'm going to crash.
I cut a way through the mist,
chasing what can't be caught.
Can it be caught?

It's not a question, rather an answer-
an answer to a question nobody asked.
Now, for when they ask, I'll tell them.
They shall only look to me and ponder,
and I shall return, alone, to this corner.

And Dali haunts me even now,
as this surreal arte forms my world-
melting Reality, to be molded as clay.
And maybe it's just paranoia,
but I think they're watching me.

And they want my brain,
jealous of the Knowledge I've attained.
Brain still accepting, as though digesting,
and I grow weaker every second,
but I know I have to crawl in.

And out of the letters carved in my arm,
a word slowly forms.
And I see it, not with my eyes.
And this word is familiar to me,
and I've never seen it before.

And with no familiarity, the words spell out...
Lost words... concentrate, watch the letters shift.
Arcane glyphs, language of the Gods,
and their secrets have been revealed...
and I see now all too well.

And this green and grey,
it is grave rot and the World is dead,
and the carrion shall come.
And they have already come,
and the Pierced side of a Christ.

And the gangrene sets in, they...
amputate your God, severing Faith.
Flesh is whole, but incomplete-
lacking, all at once, in colour,
and the lack of colour.

And the images flood faster,
the secrets are unlocked-
now and forever.
A warning to those who Seek,
don't let your dying God blind you.

Destroy these idols, instead.
And Faith is on the way,
and Faith is dead.
And it may just be paranoia,
but I think they're watching.

I am slowly being consumed,
and I don't fight.
Wisdom is my adversary.
Dancing this fatal tango,
'til we are one.

And what good is a sun?
I cannot see it rise,
oceans of ink blot out the sun,
as it burns a bright shade of black.
Sleepless days, lost only at night.

And it becomes hard to distinguish,
and I see them even now.
They know I see them.
They are in my head,
and they're waiting for me to sleep.

And in Dream, I am weak.
They slip and flood the horizon-
a tidal wave of apathy.
Glimpses into power and dementia.
Hysterics and near death.

And we all knew from the beginning.
We knew they were wrong,
but we are sheep- not to question.
Well, I ask, I ASK.
I AM the question.

And what is to become,
of these hungry ghosts?
They will starve and become fattened by their hate.
See- into it all, Scry- yet, cannot wake.
And to see the Wisdom...

to see it...
you'd think they knew...
and it may be....
paranoia...
they're watching...

And the meanings are lost in the words.
I've a whole Language and it cannot compare.
Sight is irrelevant to matters of Wisdom.
You will know, oh, you will know...
and the daze will strike, perverse.

And you won't wake up...
It won't be fine.
The end draws nigh.
The sky is aflame,
with magick and brimstone.

Armeggedon.
Apocalypse.
False Rapture.
Dissappointment.
Soul Structure.

So complicated is the mind.
Let it go, none the worse-
none the better, but the mind...
It has no boundaries,
transcends Time and Space.

And the insects, they crawl, even now.
I feel them, and they know...
Sometimes I think they're watching.
And it may be paranoia,
but I HEAR them, too.

Welcome to a genius mind.
Welcome to this poet's soul.
Tempest rageth ever on,
like the afterbirth.
And this prison cell rots.

My own dark corner, growing ever smaller.
Knowing, one day, I will rot away,
and as the decay begins, so begins my birth,
unto this New Realm,
and as I leave here unto found.

I hear you scream,
and it's all muffled-
quiet 'til it pops.
And now only the green and grey,
and my cell rots, my MIND... rots.

And it may just be paranoia,
but they told me they're watching me.
And "one last time" will never come.
My journey over-
just beginning.