Manifeste n°27

27

Empty soul, beaten guts. 

Far away, the abyss of time passing and surpassing the barriers of Sun, as it leans. 

We’ve left track, and destroyed our destiny. Disappointed by our peers, we walk on a path untouched by Time, and confuse our fears with better dreads.

Lefts aside at the party, we drank until we couldn’t remember the pain we had once suffered from. Wrench of a diminished intensity. We lose ourselves in hopes that have already been destroyed by rash acts. Then we look for sense in ruthless words. 

Evening of despair, nothing can soften this suffering.

Then we move forward, and feel the Irrevocable seizing and dragging us to another season. Knocked out, they’ve pinned us down. Yet, still, we keep on running in our imagery.

Freedom at the very bottom of our soul, Resistance at the very end of our dreams.

And I raise, warrior of precious times, as I vomit my suffering, for I was lost in the blank of my existence. And I smoke my life, and I burn my despair, as these days of destruction have tired my existence.

Behind the looking glass, you have to recognize mercy as you’ve concealed it with a disarmed mask. Ill-intentioned cowardice.

It is time to admit that only your fears have been ruining your being. 

CAR ACT AIR