Bound by Foreign Expectation
Moonlight plays over the housetops of a distant land now called home.
And within walls and within cells, the doorway stands.
The rush of fear and the stench of shame
reflect upon the silver slick surfaces of glass lakes
that tell only the lies of facts and nothing of the truth.
It is there one stands and there one enters once all flames are extinguished
and the slightest gap in defenses are blanketed away as future nightmares.
In a wave of white noise the music begins to play.
And a variation of I awakens into a world of familiar phantoms.
A ghost of a kiss, a ghoul of a heel… each and every life left unfinished
as memories of the land press inward like so much stale air.
Both of them all are real… and all at once they are not.
Rivers of words flow through the mind.
A step by step accounting of the accounts of nobody at all.
That is not where to begin and it is most definitely not where it shall end…
at least that is the song of the hopeful prayers whose silence disturb the night.
Glass, music and dirt… these are my treasures.
They are the little things that make is world tolerable.
A dusting of potions long ago secreted away.
Diamonds and sapphires swallowed down with holy water and poison.
One still breathes. One still allows the shadows to veil and separate the worlds.
And one steps through the door into darkness trying to find their way.
tunes: Gravity by A Perfect Circle