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My answer was
* * *
and is
* * *
85
the Dark.
How long ‘til the Masquerader falls? How
then, do all these senses not merely relent?
Why they but keep feeding me the fucken
horror of the world, and its beauties manifold,
tide after tide into lapsing waves of dementia,
night after night, heart beating fast to no
avail, thin blood pumped to no purpose – all
health to my torment and the twisted designs
of my creations… if I am lost, if I am free… if
all is senseless and none can heed my
summons… chiasm will not cease, nerves
won’t fucken snap. No rest for my battered
carcass but the cradle of amnesia, the coffin of
exhaustion. Able to destroy, mayhap, but
aptly apt to caress and hold and cherish;
wherefore then do all fluttering veils of
ecstasy do part at my wake?