What I Cannot See

A little bit down the cracked velvet road is that which I cannot see and this strikes a great sense of mystery to the likes of me.

I've traveled the hills but now they lack authenticity, they resemble a giant laid in his slumber with swords no one else can see and the trees that are barely visible all join together to claim their territory.
Floating clouds seem locked down by a green screen and a shining motor
Or maybe a giant with a rotting earthy odor.
Who has seen that which faces their turned heads, could it be a void of dark green patterns or a 1700s city lit only by molding lanterns?
Sight brings forth that which is seen so what does sightlessness appear to be when the streetlights shine the reflections of me.

Does my sight deceive me when I turn around?
Do my ears deceive my thoughts with the delicacy of sound?
I cannot know or take anyone's word, this fascination with forbidden knowledge has overpowered every other aspect of my life, I'm running down the spine of the universe to get to the other side.
But what lies beyond that which does not end?
It seems so vague, death is my greatest teacher when life has finished making me beg.
Death is calling my name
Death is rushing through my vision
Death is the finish line of this game
Death is pulling on my intuition.