A message that departs from the main topic       
  Excursus
   POETRY > Full Circle

Do we dream?

Or do we build a lie?

The chaos of despair

And still it continues

It's always been

Crumpled paper, smooth as song

Do we change?

Or do we die just a little

The loneliness of faith

Every time you

Close your eyes it hurts too much

Coffee stains, pure as night

And underneath all that white

Is dank, foul-smelling

Cretin bathed in light

Satan's whore! Satan's whore!

The mind recoils into

Layered cake, lines of salt

And still it continues

It's always been

The nonexistent soul.

Copyright © 2004 Excursus. All rights reserved.