Nearly afternoon Wake up, eyes look at the ceiling, Break out, then look everywhere Something's incorrect, it "works" Though discording all the way Living and accepting the system While complaining as if one Overcomes its pull; regardless, Let it take the reigns, and You've went back to sleep You pretend to branch out But hold to your convictions So afraid to let new waves release The soul from the body Neither existing, if one lets go The more concrete, the more transient So why does emotion arise Do I ascend by flying Or fall by running? What do I seek to abandon: Finite fiction, in the round That can be escaped Or infinite pain, loneliness That nests inside and never leaves?... Or perhaps it shall yet, for here Even the immortal are sentenced to death As the mortal who worship. The contradiction makes sense and is senseless As my brain breathes its weaving truth and falsity. What was right seems wrong And wrong seems right, now that I tread On the path that few dare, dreading The loss of finite security Woven in infinite lies. (Is the seeming true?) Why lose ourselves To these ornate gestations Most shameful in that We paint them with our own blood That has failed to serve sincerity since childhood.