faulty roots

The discipline of sadness is tragically dwelling on my heart. I see the vessels that wander the plains of the desert storms that we envelop our souls in. There is nothing more sweltering than a lost heart living on a prayer of redemption. Never will you cease to amaze me as we sail the earth through a space of time that is smaller than a grain of sand. Why is the nightmare of our happiness always swimming in a glass of a shrouded pool of nothingness. The ethers of the sun express its solace as we sink further into the depths of a realm that begs the attention of slumber. We have nothing but the vapers of strangers whispering their heart into the wind. As they seek us for a home, their words will never be heard again. Divine is nothing more than a trapped truth and we are mere creatures sitting on a touch that never existed. Night by night, and dream by dream, our world will shrink and to never be heard from again. Quiet is the name I give the tamed fate that you threw upon me and death is the name of the life you live. Give me your hand so I can show you what you mean to me, a tortured saint of violent tendencies. We laugh, we die, we seek shelter in the night but after all you gave me an asylum of truth, I killed in along with the rest of you