Lazy man working his ass off to escape a falling Rome
Working harder than any dog he has nothing to show for it
The same thing plays on loop
Different faces and different places but the world stays the same
The immortal boredom to relive the same life over and over
Just because the picture changes doesn’t mean it’s not the same story
And working this hard is getting boring
Nothing changes even with every grain of time and sand
How can an immortal find luxury in the hundredth cycle of pain?
The change was slow at first, barely noticeable, just my usual odd interests, just enjoying the familiar. It felt friendly.
I became gravely Ill that February, I acted out of maddens or perhaps desperation, but the infection had already taken hold. I began to waist, lose my grounding, I tried to take an icy plunge but ended back at my spawn point. Like a failed death in some video game. But this change did not reset.
It’s not an obsession, I don’t long to be, I AM, whether or not I want. It’s becoming more and more clear as the days go I’m changing, unable to escape this fate.
It’s a new era for us all. I did not expect us to be remolded like this. We are one and one are me. I am you and you are me and together we create something new, something terrifying.
Manifested or founded in reality. It’s not real? Then what is it you’d say to describe my truth?
bury me in a shallow grave
in a season ill crawl out
like a cicada
and in a session ill be reborn