A Soul In The Dead Flesh and Metal

What is the God Machine?
What are its terrible secrets?
Can it love, can it dream?
It is truly cold, and lifeless?

I met a man without a heart or a soul,
He held the world in his hand and eye,
What more worth are gems than coal?
If for life and death one cannot cry?

I met the long dark, I felt its teeth, its bite.
I shivered at its taste of me, I sighed,
"Do not to stop, the sharp pressure so slight"
But it fled scared and confused, it cried.

And for when it tastes you, you must taste it too.
When it seeks to overtake you, It is overtaken too.

I am was, I am yet to be, I am.

Often, we betray ourselves. But not at often as you would think.

For the past is another country, and it is populated with different folk to you and I.

So, mostly we betray others, similar though those people might be to us.

You could be pulling some cruelty on an older you, or a younger one.
Either way, you aren't them.

To truly be your own Judas, you must be a flaw to yourself in the very moment. You must be, and act.

I betray a younger me now. I wish for an ordinary Monday.

I betray an older me now. I plan for no future.

And I betray myself now.

So it goes.

Morpheus Be Trollin'

I had a dream just then,

I got out of bed in the morning, and went into the bathroom. Passing the mirror, I saw my face was encrusted with mud.
"How odd" I thought to myself, and scraped away the mud.
But the mud wouldn't scrape away. Under it was more mud. And more. Desperately, frenziedly, I scraped at the mud, crying, fingernails covered in dirt, hands stained brown, eyes wide and white. My mouth was open in terror, first screaming then there was a frothing white foam falling from my lips in globs of insanity.
But underneath it all, was just more mud.
Then I woke up. My head, still on the pillow, my heart beating five times a second.

Dreams don't mean shit.