[ 013 - Thoughtstream ] (Broadcast Mind)
[ There is no video. There is no voice. There is just the presense of thought. Continuous, seemingly endless, and it completely inundates you...overtakes you, an explosion of doubt and guilt, loneliness and confusion all combined into one. ]
Slithering, sliitheering, sliiitheeering, across your skin one hundred black legs, in sin, inside. Or are they hands? Peeling back your flesh, but it's not yours, not yours, not yours...it never was. Was it His? It was Hers.
Not yours.
The water is rising again.
Rising.
Rising.
Rising.
Rising.
Keep treading. Don't close your eyes. Keep your head above the surface. Chin held high. Don't look. Can't fly.
Mother is watching you.
You're such a disappointment.
A puppet, strings cut, cast away, limbs flailing, heart broken, faith shaken, useless, forgotten, unwanted, forgotten, desperate, forgotten, despised by everything, everyone...you are nothing. For...what?
Where is your voice now?
You're not even a remnant now.
Where is your precious reunion now?
You're nothing but an insect, digging, digging, digging your own grave now.
Dig deep, puppet. Dig deep.
Sink far.
Surrender.
Swallow just a little harder and forget. Your lungs will burst, but it's what you deserve.
A weak and pathetic failure like you...
[ ...and silence. Absence of thought, of feeling. Emptiness. Nothingness. ]
[ Is this what it is like to be dead? ]
Slithering, sliitheering, sliiitheeering, across your skin one hundred black legs, in sin, inside. Or are they hands? Peeling back your flesh, but it's not yours, not yours, not yours...it never was. Was it His? It was Hers.
Not yours.
The water is rising again.
Rising.
Rising.
Rising.
Rising.
Keep treading. Don't close your eyes. Keep your head above the surface. Chin held high. Don't look. Can't fly.
Mother is watching you.
You're such a disappointment.
A puppet, strings cut, cast away, limbs flailing, heart broken, faith shaken, useless, forgotten, unwanted, forgotten, desperate, forgotten, despised by everything, everyone...you are nothing. For...what?
Where is your voice now?
You're not even a remnant now.
Where is your precious reunion now?
You're nothing but an insect, digging, digging, digging your own grave now.
Dig deep, puppet. Dig deep.
Sink far.
Surrender.
Swallow just a little harder and forget. Your lungs will burst, but it's what you deserve.
A weak and pathetic failure like you...
[ ...and silence. Absence of thought, of feeling. Emptiness. Nothingness. ]
[ Is this what it is like to be dead? ]