Saturday, May 14, 2016

Modernity's Wild Hunt

I never sleep
But still I am able to dream
I try to speak
But I have always been struck dumb
For though I have a voice
It is not welcome in this world
No matter how many dreams of suicide
How many memories I never had
Days of pain in the asylum
And drinking liquid cyanide
My life has not been so bad
But still I run
The parts are greater than the sum
And my dreams look like they've been mutated
Even mutilated
Being torn from my womb
From the tomb of my heart
As if someone retaliated
For my having hope
Instead of dreams of doom
But now I pray
And the world still preys
And I am the questing beast
Set to run
While the wild hunt
Is begun