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It's all this reeking ego craves the sun to never set why do threads of anger never linger, why does the ember turn to stone? To where the longing goes in with the sins of old a face of nothing, to never see as blind as free everything I want is in the end of this everything I need will be the end of me My negation Will you know my name? And sense the danger coming My negation Can you see my face? What's to become of me? The art of reduction Stripped down through what seems defendable scaled to bare revisions to stop making sense levelling pillars of towering fear rational instincts and insight to spare end of falseness end of grace everything I fear is in this failing nothing of what I am is in this end
