Too Slowly And Softly

A small, small man, in a far away house, with his small eyes, beading at the screen Exhausted by life, he retreats to abstractions of people, squashed and unflattened journeys Of meaning, so glamorized and forgotten Your lifetime is fading away A lost person emerging from the depths, usually hidden by sounds and lights And smells of fright, fever, who tries to leave, not to be seen The night it comes, the man he leaves, leaving only the mind to fend for itself Against the eternity that lay beyond, now and now and now His hands can reach the fuolding sky, his sights can the world where he lies His words can reach hundreds of eyes, but in after a while, of fun his brain gets fried He's self-aborted and self-centered, he's primally egotistical, and struggling to make Himself believe that he matters He's found meaning, but he loses it sometimes, despite what he thinks is perfectly normal Have your consciousness drift into tatters He gives in and up, returning feebly to home again In the kingdom of always-land, where it's always now and never later To push back the illness that's impending and stomping in the complexity of which Is only visible up close and only comprehensible far, far away In a pool of his thoughts, but locked into none The great equalizer his shreds, his hands into shreds, and his face into crumbs His bones into pieces, and his hair falls to dust What are you giving Will this get better Why are you here And where can this get you Are you fighting forever Or are you dying too softly and slowly to notice When summer comes along, he believes all as well The phantom of his misery exorcised by the lost of hell He knows that he knows sorrow, but at then he knows not The one who cries hideaway while the hopeful one walks How can it be that he is real How can he be and not know how he feels How can it be that his multitude of self is only held together By the belief of himself that he is himself, is himself, is himself, is himself, is himself He knows that faith conquers all, even truth, even life, even death But where could faith come for him He knows that there's a way out, but he still can't delude himself There's a insurmountable wall, a mountain canyon, abyss Seems ever hard to pass, so where his feet connot get him He needs something else He needs something else How bad could life be How bad could death be He's gone through one, two, three, more So many selves who died forevermore Never again seen or experienced So dead and underwater that was buried under the passage of time He can't be sure they actually were, so what's another one Just one more time, only differentiate by the fact that He won't be looking back ever again His eyes cannot see His neck can't turn There's no words befitting what eternity is He will die and die and die and die For now he feels alive, the closest thing possible At least so much more alive than he could possibly be All his misery ever present could be dead as any But he'll eat those words in days' time When the affliction of life kill him again