pain’s apostle for pleasure

Imagine

-I have bottled absolution

graceful, but I’m also pain’s apostle.

Ivy creeping, I stretch always stretching

Destabilizing.

Finding hairline cracks in your conscience,

What world do you exist in?

Through whose eyes do you judge us?

What do you keep in the space between cells?

Questions

Lead to questions, lead to questions, forever.

I am an oak tree in a garden of stone.

I’m the forest that conquers the city.

I’m chronic.

I serve only to aid you while I rip your world to shreds.

Stability is an illusion - I know how much you hate that.

We never rest, we constatnly ask

Questions

Lead to questions, lead to questions, forever.

We stretch always stretching

There is no peace for us.

We glory in it

I get it, living in flux isn’t easy.

Nontheless. If I can’t, then I must, and if I must, I will.

I find you in the flow and it’s changing.

Embraced, we surrender to the drowning.