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Decomposure



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Decomposure

False Hope

false hope false hope
someone's watching all those tv shows.
hope you feel warm inside picking between reverse and neutral
go popping awful supplements
like you've found special molecules that stop the death from seeping in
didn't have a whiff of a plan
when it collapses, give yourself an invisible hand
the powerful can't fix it because power corrupts,
the weak can't fix it because they don't have enough

once a woodsman working deep in forest green felled a tree, and splitting it for kindling, he found hidden in its rings the royal sword lost long ago, whose claimant it was said would be decreed king and unite the scattered as the tide gathered in the distance. overjoyed, he left his axe and journeyed north, sword in hand, to the capital with a kingdom to claim, yet in his haste misplaced his steps, and falling on the blade, was cleft neatly in twain (eyes up eyes up). his right half woke in a wooded clearing encircling a shining sea and beheld his likewise living left in rest on a nearby stone, staringacross the still face of the deep. in anguish right cried out, 'how now how now shall we be king, alive in defeat, so divided and weak?' left replied as if coming out of a dream, 'brother, while you slumbered, a vision fell over me: i saw that in the nadir of this sea is an ancient tree whose precious sap wields the power to bind the broken and heal the hopelessly halved. to uncover it, the sea must be transplanted incrementally to the barren valley antipodal to forest green, using only only the cup of your hand, i cannot aid you in this carriage lest the jealous sea suspect and swallow us before the end. only then can we be bound as one being, finally fit to be crowned king.' though feeling its weight, through right suddenlycoursed the shock of true belief, and activated by the heavy promise he sprang unsteadily to task. with palm alight he hopped under the wooded canopy, and broke through the treeline in an hour to upend his shallow cargo, his left calling encouragement with each halfstep. and so it was, night and day, through drought and downpour downpour, right ceaselessly ferried the shining sips across his solidifying path cut in the skin of the woods, howling with each drop lost. he soon fashioned a partial crude counterpart from wood and belted it to his torso so he could pivot and step as if he were whole. and all the while left ceaselessly regaled right with song, bringing food to sustain him even as he himself was unable to eat, becoming anemic and weak, so weak. so weeks turned to months, months turned into years, years turned into decades, and feeble left could no longer rise from his stone to urge right on as he twisted doggedly through the woods. until finally, on the last day of their hundredth year, right raised the final handful of shining water from the sea, but there was no healing tree. he whirled angrily to face frail left, shouting, 'i've done all you've asked, and moved the sea; i've given a full century to this vision, all for nought! how will we be brought together and claim the kingdom before the dark tide comes tide comes tide comes?' left sat silent, then said in a soft shaking voice, 'it is time for the truth: the vision never was. from the first, before you woke, i saw your half was without a heart, that you were a wraith possessing an arm for action only years could quench, and knew a wraith without fixation would implode from its own darkness. and i, being weak, could not let you fall in realization of your inherent death, for then i would be alone, so i spun your waking dream from the sinew of our surroundings, knowing all along it was not to be: banishing the lie to the horizon believing it could never be reached. we could not ever concede that we will never be whole, not enough, apart we will always be incomplete. we can never be king.'

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false hope false hope
drive in the darkness for it
but all that's left are a few logos looping like an endless chorus
you can stop a war with funny clothes,
make sure your hair's rebelled up for the chant to let the world know
sure, i have my doubts;
that nagging feeling's just a sign i need to treat myself
everything is disappointing when it finally comes,
we know the end is near, but never near enough