Power.

There is nothing that I seek more than power.

Power in all things

Power.

Fundamental to the human condition

Power, a means to something more  

A means to defining what

…but not why.

I want it enough to endure poverty

Humiliation, servitude, enslavement

Because my power is my own

exercises in it’s own way …as hooks are cast into it

with the polite text message that signifies, …nothing

I have never touched the other side

Never seen the world through your eyes

Or entertained such ideas

I cannot see for shit.

As I listen between the æther for your sounds

As the brain can see without eyes …in its way

in sync with the synchronicity

of the mutual energy we share

we all feast on the wrath of this place
the constant lament

that they want us to call ‘life’

constantly accepting premises that require madness

always getting lower and lower for the empty threats

cast by irrelevant shadows

the secret is simple: ignite those shadows with the light

Bring them asunder within the spark of your humanity

Though it will make darkness that much darker

It will convert you into that without title

homo sapiens will be crushed under the gaze

their strength is not to be underestimated

the fear in their minds can blind them in fury

though most actions take place without thought

we have not escaped the influence of insects

as all things have a power, in their way

the ability to take existence; of couse,

being the most lasting

…and relatively easy

But the infection of fear is just as good

And we must recognize this as well:

I want you to listen, to not be afraid

The paradox, quite comically; 

‘the only way to get people to listen quickly is through the pressures of fear’

Because cowardice dances through the hearts of the defeated

Every. Single. day.  

And it is there in the vacant: “that’s not my department.”

It’s there in the idle: “you’ll need to talk to John about that.”

As the artificiality pours in through the cracks of our respective æther

…or put another way:  

    

As it eats away at our love

Like some sort of toxic, acidic, sap that none can entirely avoid

And even less can remove

But it can be shed, in the forest of the subconscious

On the floors of wherever music plays

It will get swept up, thrown away, and carted off

To become an artificial forest

For new inspiration to grow

The problem with power is that it is bullshit.

Because power has to be kept,

it must be organized and catalogued

and that is a lot of work

when giving it up as affection

allowing it resonation between everything

there is no need to have power

but an incredibly encouraging reason to share it.
somehow more than 'fundamental' to the human condition

...and by all means;

take this with you wherever you go.