Gothic

A hundred years of working days:
the once promising haloes of flies and fools
are cascading around me
as light burns us all in one
and one in all.

Since we all wanted to join the dance
where the world meets the curious waves
of the cult of noctunal dreams
and fallen wonders.

Occultic murmur of the visionaric heart
caused us to realize
that the sum and the substance
were really lovers
and that tearing us apart
were neither love or our diseased minds
but the dying reality

All of those thousands of seconds
life left wasted.

You do know, at the end of it all.
all around the place
divinity raptures
as disguises do fall.

Can you hear how the furies are howling?
It is your own madness calling -