Apocalypticists

Consciousness reworked, sequences shifted
Thoughts crystallized, dark veil risen
Whom seek to liberate, whom seek the inmost truth
Whom entered the path and stumbled

One hell of epiphany: Delirium
And inherent discontent and hunger
An anchorite immured within cursing stones
And their discordant chant, an offering refused
Nothing ecstatic about this truth
And even gods have deserted

No one will be awaken, no one will be released

And those spastic wriggles of a semazen
Desperate with the notion of a flat-lined thought

No one will be awaken, no one will be released

Revelato

An abode of distress, a resonant blasphemy
A constellation of black holes, a clay ratio
Another turn of the wheel of deconstruction
This particular mind has specialized in howling

No one will be awaken, no one will be released