Deep Breath

Part I, Open Void

The Mobula ray has a way to attract attention.

In my life up till now there are moments where attraction caught my attention

With little if none resistance the ray glides over a moonlit sky, towards the goal

Black and white wings in slow motion through a breathless air, cloaked believer

Keep your distance, be on guard and never turn your back

Deep sleep, dream of the shoal gliding deeper into the galaxy

Constellation of the devil they say, wingspan of doom breeds on wisdom and knowledge

The ray radiated a vivid yet mist like darkness matched to nothing, hence nil is not a number

So as the wind blows harder and breaks off the waves, flattening ocean as increased in power

Below the shadows never rests, constant movements, following the hungry tide

Part II, Bison

Sounds of creation, long tones reflecting shadows from the past

Nothing matches the feeling your music evokes, heavy rhythms spinning on as time stops

Who can fight this feeling without giving up the freedom that ignorance brings

The Chief acting deaf if he wants to hear at all, it’s in the sound all information lingers

Shout and turn, scratch the void while you scream your message to all things living yet dying

Deep, heavy doom, take myself higher, up and beyond the horizon into another dimension

Part III, The Rosenhan Experiment

Insane in a sane reality, linger on as sane in an insane environment

As insanely sane as you can, there are moments when only one knows what is and what isn’t

Childhood memories of shame and defeat, trusted friends racing up the path to get away

Home with warmth and cold mixed as the winter grows darker outside, anger building in small hands

Fake wholesomeness always seeking the way if independence, solitude a key to locked doors

Now age has caught up and is poking venom into every pore, an end sitting on the doorstep waiting

Same hands gripping a different truth, losing ones mind as he goes, lingers on as (in)sane

-A sound of cornered-animal fear and hate surrender and defiance, that if you ever trailed a coon or cougar or lynx is like the last sound the treed and shot and falling animal makes as the dogs get him, when he finally doesn’t care anymore about nothing, but himself and his dying.-

‘Chief Bromden’

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