Revenge Of The Dadaists — The Agonist

Sont-ils prisonniers? [French: Are they locked in?] Devrais-je les lib?rer? [French: Should I release them?]

This seclusion frightens me

What happened to youthful armies, Manicured gardens, Proud role models?

Now I sit Dependent zombie Longing for the physical

One can't destroy energy One can only transfer it What if I never acknowledged reality Could I avoid it?

Broken tree roots curling up as if to grow towards the sky Inverting gravity and plummeting angels to hell

Grabbing air pockets to free yourself You trip on extra limbs And crumble in

The dirt feels cold and soft Seems so foreign yet so welcoming You hear the Earth breathe and for a moment, laying there Get an internal perspective Molecule mix and flesh confuses with elements

You aren't sure about getting up Perhaps the trees were right and merging with the Earth is The way to live for centuries Coffins float upside down like cumulus

Knock and see who's inside! You wonder how the doors don't swing open Are they locked in? Should i release them?

You leave footsteps of fire So no one can follow your tracks I should be trudging ahead but I just keep looking back

You never told me that I would get so badly burnt I always freeze upon contact now So the flames don't hurt

Does controlling pain make it void If energy is transferred, not destroyed?

I invite them to all join Forcing confusion through ballpoint

Did you forget the intentional dreaming and patriotic cut-outs? I still feel the strangulation throttling me out

This is still not the way you want to end The leaves swing down to tuck you in This is where you won't wake up again I hope you will - I'm just not convinced

You feel the mantle pulse

The fissures throb The nucleus bellows You see those around you Who felt it all along

Black eyes and superior senses Curious noses seem They seem apathetic

Should they really care? They know they knew what we refuse to understand Prevention only goes so far Make way for the newborn

There's only so much carbon in the work Take a number

You've had your time Get in line You must be this good to ride

You leave footsteps of fire So no one can follow your tracks I should be trudging ahead but I just keep looking back

You never warned me that I would get so badly burnt I always freeze upon contact now So the flames don't hurt You must be this good to die