Post-Heaven Dreamer

A blissful kick, a rendezvous of flavors; beyond a cult and beyond a static frame of deference.

Incognito, in cognition the straps of your soul break thoughts, factions of emeraldesque cells of what we don't know.

Hope cries out and is smothered by all near Him.

Stricken with the endless gaping stares of passengers not on my ship.

Throngs of death.

Collapsing ethers are annihilated without acknowledgment, but rather, a cracking laughter in rhyming hellspeech.

Talk not.

Sometimes eternity fails us.

And in those moments, time comes with his fists and breaks everything without, at long last, giving the mercy that was stolen from us.