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Somewhere Only We Know

dayum bean. full screen. let’s tear this cloud apart. feel my rain.

i look out and all i see is abyss. and i can’t help but feel that the german was right, that the abyss is looking into me. yes, a monster without lapse, fault. a monster in meditation, deep thinking. and as the abyss in me expands i fill in the holes of my understanding. fill them in like it’s multiple choice. don’t forget you’re only allowed to use a 2B pencil. so you shade in these holes and they become darkk till their black. and now they are black holes and they give me success and grant me all that is accepted and these black holes suck me into their depths. oh the depth of the abyss, what great darkness. and then i’m asked if i’ve passed through this night. and a voice asks me ‘this great evil, where does it come from, how’d it steal into the world, what seed, what root did it grow from’ and before the voice has time to continue i’ve left. this great evil is the abyss that we look into. it looks into us. it plants its seed and make monsters and destroys all proof of youth. because when you’re in your youth you want the stars and you want to live and once you’ve left you just want to fucking curl up and die. sin city ain’t got shit on this warped interpretation. and your mid free fall in the abyss seems to be eternal and she’s crying ‘wait for m-’ and you cut her off because you don’t want to hear it and you fill in what you know with false empty meaningless answers. m for marsupials, millipedes and the moonlight. so you want that plead your belief in marsupials, millipedes and the moonlight. but it doesn’t really work. and you try not to worry, it’ll all work out, you tell yourself, the seed has been planted. you tell yourself that its grit and doubt will expand and fill you completely.
where are you angels, where is the light i was promised. where is my golden chariot, i want to hear harps, dance, and believe the plea of the marsupial, the millipede and the moonlight.
honour that wish, i beg.
i ask you this because i am aware that i need more surgery, that there is still great light in me. that there is far too much light, so much so that there is an imbalance. for when i wake i know her cry, for while the abyss tries fill more of me it has failed to fill me fully for there is too much light in me. and despite this plea, i am certain my wish will not be granted. because oh guardians, oh angels, you play your harps and they echo with truth and guidance on what is good, and how to be good. you do not sympathize with my imbalance. the chaos, and the troubles of a boy-man who cannot help but look into the abyss.