I let my cover fall, opened my arms and asked you to hide me.
You said I was purgatory.
What once was so big was left unlit and ravaged.
But I don't care.
I have Job's Coffin to keep me aware.
Words were the movement of the moment but they fell to pieces, through tiny messages.
I am above it.
Sleeping soundly, happy with or without me.
This authenticity is almost blinding.
Doing everything one goddamn pleases other than
Falling victim to my dark sided thesis.
Now I must out-create this disillusionment.
You are a talisman but I am the cult that founded it.
