The

The Metaphysical

The exploration beyond the tangible

 

It is ethereal, and therefore, in its essence,

Can never be philosophical, or rational

But quite the contrary

 

A realist cursing the constant coincidence

 

Some summon the comfort of substances

Foul play, clandestine action

Others are disgusted with

It ain’t about the drug you hit

It’s the way you come off of it

 

I had my last supper and crafted my last picture

Only to eternally chase, the glittering girl

Lacking the glass slipper

 

Tossing crumpled love ballets down a rabbit hole

Lined with archaic ideals and lost souls

 

The serpent always seems to slaughter the apostles

The prophets are merely the prostitutes of the philosophical

 

History is trickery and technology has co modified the mystery

Society has homogenized his majesty

Yet we still seek triumph from tragedy

 

Spinning revolutions upon the wax that candles bleed

I walk the desolate range, subconsciously invested in the urban decay

Only to observe this simple moment of sanity