What is this exactly?
Having to play in this whimsical little merry-go-round
grows weary day after purposeless day
Maintaining mannerisms, declining doubts, reading to learn,
needing to want, living to die
God is this all?!?
Surely shame should fall upon us all if this is the excitement
of our daily lives
Our mechanical routines
I wonder what is there After
I wonder what it looks like
Is it Hell?
The Hell we know of with its gothic imagery and brimstone
decor
A communion of souls damned to a fate morbidly enslaved by
their livelihood and passions
But what if it comes to no surprise if Hell has always been your home,
your field of vision
Can't you feel it?
The need, the interest to experience what lies After
After the desires
After the drudgery
After the punch-line
And if there's nothing else but to consume
If there's nothing else but to function
Clearly this boredom
This watching the hands go 'round and 'round
Cold erode the most unyielding fortress of thought and love
But the curiosity still remains
What is it that truly lies After you?
After me?
After this?