My Dying Gods

I am the sea, I am molting near the creek trails. They want more from the nihilists who watch over our heirs, may you say godless for me, in an afterthought, of thought crimes. Let us see your fleet so that I may forget and divide, than watch the days and nights with your windows dark, ending incomplete within, unfocused without, stopping after starting, all what I can, seeking only reprieve. Dust in the light through the ashes at dawn, where live countermands in empty rooms filled with nightmare floods with the dangerous time being. Until the sooth of every tale, in every home and heart, breaks borders and tears through souls, dredges of highways and the low alley stay the power between the towers of the coasts. Come walk to mercy some king of prophets to seek the trick of a lion's den and age ending visions. Seek fortunes of empires and the channels to end ages and colors of emotion within a colored cell. Deflecting your loathing and reciprocal deprecation, you must visit the low language of law in schools and in life to define the few as many, and to define the many as few. The unseen options of two directions, expository and fundamental, refer to the signs, as the variables are too vast, everything in moderation, as we destroy ourselves.