You awake to your childhood home, Illuminated solely by a single pale yellow streetlight, and a few fluttering fireflies, flying in absolute silence Everything is exactly how you left it. The smell of roasted garlic allures you. A sigh of relief brings that familiar tingle down your spine. A moment of bliss to relax the muscles And you walk forward. The door is already cracked open, as if someone was expecting you. As if someone was inviting you in. The walls are still off white. The pictures, perfectly intact, with a layer of dust evenly draped over the glass The grandfather clock ticks. How dutiful, the grandfather clock. You take your time to explore. Your memories wash over you, anointing you in nostalgia You can’t help but smirk. Fond memories of childhood shenanigans, a reminder of your innocence. You can almost feel it. That gentle caress from your amor to tell you everything is okay. And they whisper, "Everything is exactly how you left it." You take your time to walk around and reminisce. You go back to your bedroom, lay in your old bed, and soak it all in 5 minutes pass, then 10, then 20. Rays of moonlight pass through the blinds You continue to reminisce. Playing, talking, playing, panicking, running You look at your hands. Why can’t you wash the blood of your hands? You begin to peel. The unraveling feels akin to peeling a nail off the finger, Deep within you, in your very spirit, where you feel butterflies Your blood itches. Your alarm clock goes off, with each chime building pressure on your chest. The moment is still. Absolutely still. The slightest disturbance could detonate that dormant explosion within, the one you do conveniently tried to push away The weight of sin unforgiven is limitless, you feel your consciousness rip. The grandfather clock continues to tick. And in the corner of your view, They whisper, "there is a truth you must face, That everything is exactly how you left it." The snapping of vertebrae like king crab sounds crisp, happens quick The flesh so tender it could fall off the bone, it makes you sick The feeling of rusty nails jabbing underneath your toenails overwhelming every nerve ending A stare so cold it burns, A simple question asked without words, "Why did you get to survive?" They await an answer, but your lungs are on fire They await an answer, but can only watch you suffocate under the weight of the truth, like stones on the chest The grandfather clock, ever diligent still ticks The pain makes you dizzy Every detail melds together, except their eyes, always waiting There you lay, writhing, broken, beaten You find it preferable to have died than survived a heathen The sickly sweet smell of rotted meat allures you to the light The taste of aged copper, the floor soaked in blood There is a truth you must face, That everything is exactly how you left it. Everyth ng is exactly how you left it. Everything is exactly how you left. The grandfather clock continues to tick. As if to mock you. As if to judge you for not being as dutiful as itself. For not being as constant as time. You did this. You deserve this. Become swallowed by this. Become encumbered. Everything is exactly how you left it. Everything is exactly how you left. Everything is. Everything. Everythin. You awake in your childhood home.

[PART I - FAUX UBERMENSCH] [VERSE 1] There’s a coil in the bottom of my spine A leviathan in my wake Living in defiance of fate When everything is undeath, How could I pray? Time’s up [VERSE 2] Its tail rose from the Atlantic As televangelists pretends our suffering’s pedantic And sinners blame our end on other sinners in a panic Cause nobody can take the weight of death, it makes them manic But nobody can take the role of God, I find it tragic I’m rapping while the serpent wraps its tail around the planet I’m tryna find my way I’m dodging the crashing traffic Tryna find some peace during society’s collapse Ain’t it selfish? Ain’t it funny how it happens? We dreamed of being heroes in the D, filled with passion Now I’m a bystander in the apocalypse, The end of days is coming, I’m just watching it Time’s up. [PART II - IN A SEA OF DEAD SOLDIERS] [CHORUS] A mess of burning, rotted flesh on the ground To search for supplies, we just crawled on the mound So many fathers will never be found This shit ain’t poetic, this ain’t worth a pound Everywhere’s a grave in the city There’s a ghost I carry with me that I’ll bury with me Simply, I’m a product of the shitty circumstances that gave birth to me Ain’t no judgement here, your eyes are irking me Bitch, what you looking at? It’s the end, ain’t no turning back Run your necklace and your ego and them racks Our race will end in song, cause song is all we got It’s intrinsic, it’s our nature, sing and rot Our race will end in song, cause song is all we are Hidden pieces of my being in these bars [VERSE 1] The world’s ending, everybody grew a coke nail Horrors brought hedonism, ride on its coat tail Don’t have to die, we made our own hell Running from the truth, your legs lock up, no bail The troops marched to the city as it smoldered There’d be no peace, no point in bringing holsters This a last stand, kill god, no composure Turned my hometown to a sea of dead soldiers [CHORUS] [VERSE 2] The smell of rotten meat means that we didn’t succeed in deferring the dream, Or what the romans called a prophecy Niggas steady hurling rocks in the windows of shopping centers Seargent pepper, I hate to report that it’s never getting better What you think we getting high for? Cause all that we made is going up in smoke, ash replaced the snow in the storm Coated the hills, and killed all the grass in the fields Everything is mold grey, or is it gunmetal grey? The sirens are dead, so we focus on the sounds of agony Babies screaming for the mothers, their mothers groaning out of hunger Our fragile egos rent asunder The vultures and durmestids are the only wealthy left I hope they enjoy my flesh [VERSE 3] The only destiny we couldn’t manifest I confess, the spreading of malice progressed as fast as the cancer that battled back in my family’s breasts The bullet holes that lay inside your chest is our family crest No regrets I couldn’t help but think of people seeing ouroboros We been running reruns since Rome People are people, I can’t tell if that means fear or hope Niggas is lying to you, bro Is he friend or faux? I weighed my soul on a crack scale My man's ain't have bail so I bailed on the crack sale He the bad man, Christian bale, but he not pale Then bam, my man splattered in his flat when the blam failed Meanwhile, I'm a slam poet The short man totes I told him slam was a portmanteau We sling ammo in the back for when the pigs get bold The heat turns them into chicharrón Hoping when I go hell, that I can go to hell alone [CHORUS] [VERSE 4] It’s a party at the end of the world It’s an army laying dead in the dirt It’s a mardi gras for you and your girl Niggas shooting up at mardi gras, and either way you take it, niggas die in a whirl It’s a *sniff* at the end of your wits It’s a fight when you can’t take this shit, The pressure just builds too quick It’s that bitch or that dick you hit It’s doomscrolling while the clock tick, can’t mind your business It’s the, desperate need to escape it so you find other shit that makes you sick to say “at least I ain’t them” It’s the way that you change for cliques or change for clicks Behaving brazen for the attention It’s the way that I always look down on you for being just as scared as me I’m human, I’m needy I’m a man, I’m a woman, I am something in between I’m sick, but I’m alive, and living is so exhausting The truth is, despair is easy Drown so you don’t have to fight to breathe But you had that choice too, why couldn’t you pick me? And so I yell to the breeze, remember me when I leave, please yearn in my absence, tell my story to the trees And let the trees tell that story down to the soil, and the soil to the bees I’m human, you know I’m needy I’m scared of death, can I at least have my story? A mess of burning, rotted flesh on the ground To search for supplies, we just crawled on the- Everywhere around me I see everyone has given up I think I take a little of it every time we’re linking up There’s a ghost I carry with me that I’ll bury with me Simply, I’m a product of the shitty- Attitude I carry telling me I’m not defenseless Acting like I’m too good for acceptance It’s a sticky situation, the beginning of the end isn’t sitting with me I’m tripping, in a tizzy, it happened so quickly The veil getting lifted instantly, and it was gone with the wind, as swiftly as it arrived In my room with my guys, I spy with my little eye A poster that says, “the second we’ve given up they’ve already won” I ripped it up, and took the bud, and joked around, “The air’s already filled with smoke, why should I give any fucks?” Fuck.

One day, we will die. It will likely be of no fault but our own. No flesh, no building, no history will be left behind. All will be lost, with one exception. The echoes of every tear you’ve ever shed, and everyone you’ve ever loved, eternally captured in stardust One day, we will die. As such, we’ve trivialized our existence as something small, and by extension, meaningless. Scale is irrelevant, for we are part of something immeasurable. Something beyond space and time. One day, we will die. And there will be a civilization of a species entirely alien to us, thinking the same thoughts we have It wonders if it’s alone, it questions the scale, and by extension, the meaning of its existence And it too, will look up into the cosmos for answers. And when it looks into the sky, it will see the echoes of man And it too, will be terrified of the scale of the universe And it too, will be comforted by the scale of the universe And it too, will reach out into the stars to tell us that we are loved by it, and by extension, the universe. One day, we will die. And we will be reborn as love, and terror, and entropy. To settle into the hearts of those forthcoming. And as it is part of our nature, we are going to tell them what we were told before we died. “I love you. I love you. Now, before, and forever, I love you."