This blackness, this empty medium in which I plummet through, offers no comfort. There is no fixed point on which to rest my straining eyes. I gravely begin to accept my skewed perception. There is nothing here of significance. I seek purpose in my fall and find nothing but the shadows of empty promises. I listen for reason but hear only the rush of wind as it quickly passes me by, constantly reminding me of my inane existence. The only real thing I feel in this cavern is the sharp, cold wind that blisters my body. Nothing exists beyond that pain. I clutch my chest as it deepens, transforming into a suffering whose origions were spun from the realization that there is no reason for my presence here. I smell nothing but the rotting lies of those who see what I see, and feel what I feel, but claim to know much more. I warm my body with the anger that boils within me from their deception.
The anger is quelled, however, as a despondent realization maneuvers within me like a thick freezing liquid, covered with jagged ice crystals that slowly tear away at my flesh as it penetrates into my empty soul. My rants are just as empty and meaningless. The small difference is that I'll never claim to really know anything. I have faith in nothing. My own perception of this darkness, the rotting lies that cling to my skin, the empty promises that crack my skull, my entire interpretation could be a flawed. "Nothing is certain, not even this." - Arcesilaus. As the suffering deepens, my only comfort is the knowledge that this chasm has a floor. There is no person alive who knows what is beyond that floor. No matter what you or I believe or reject, our destines are the same. Darkness will consume us all. No one falls forever.
"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more.
It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."
Macbeth - Act 5 Scene 5
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Oh man, I can’t believe that you did what they said you did And to this day I’ve still gotta say that in my mind I question it I wish I knew what you had meant before you went and left me wondering To just an echo of your voice ‘Listen…’
Now I wait to take my turn to bleed like a kid playing with a razorblade
I hear the sound of a heart from the shadow in the dark
I guess there comes a point when you think to yourself I wish it didn’t end this way
Live a life in hell through a mortal shell asphyxiation smell
“Listen my son – firstborn last one”
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