Trapped for escape,
it bursts through the crust.
What emerges?
A dark pus,
tasting ever so sweet.
Tasty?
Then do continue to lap it up.
What is seen now?
The bright...brightest of light...
illumination upon illumination;
blinding iridescence calling to unbearable rapture.
Yes, soon it will cease to matter,
whether it is nothing
or everything!
Lap it up, the voluminous treat
- continue as you are.
What do you feel?
A comforting rage against this bile;
I have consented to...servitude.
Yes,
ecstatic servtiude gives birth,
embrace rebirth,
embrace the poison.
No! No! I see through now;
it gives birth to the Reaper...
as saccharine seductress.
There is no use in resisting;
want is now need,
triumphant atop your crumbled will.
Is there no escape?
None at all.
The poison is within you
you will succumb;
your fate is sealed.
I will fight even an ill-fated fight;
for no demise is worse than one suffered on my knees.
It circulates even now,
and it was you,
you who ingested it,
allowing it to flow so freely within.
Don't you feel guilt?
This is the fate you have chosen.
To fight now is foolish;
a foolish fight against oneself.
I see clearly now.
The poison has no affect.
It is nothing
- mere illusion.
I fight not for purity,
not for myself,
not for the eternal.
I fight on,
I must fight on,
because I still am,
here and now,
naked and flawed;
in no need of vestment,
in no need of nectar,
and in no need for paradise
- vacuous and hollow.
Doom is assured,
for the one who submits;
I refuse.
