Sarcophagus of skin.
The ritual commences from within.
Psychological isolation
Symbiotic with frustration
And preoccupations with mortality
Corrupts the foundation
Upon which vitality
Stands erect.
A statue stands
Among the masses.
He gazes at interstellar gases
Seeking responses
From sources
Without voices.
Inept at embracing life
Anxious at the thought of physical extension.
Lifelong pariah
Reaches the zenith of his apprehension.
He dares all
To decipher the mysteries
Known only to him.
Many have come close
To masterminding the masked monolith
That stands among misguided Pharisees
With cloned mindsets.
Together they scribe inaccuracies
Sharp enough
To dissect every bone.
Alone with only metaphors,
The sculpture stands vacantly,
But his soul is far from blind.
He shivers within an opaque cloak.
Able to be reached
Yet cautious of manual malice of forethought.
He sweats rubble.
Cries pebbles.
A social rebel
Struggling against himself.
Eroding from outside and within.
Sediment showers in shards.
Porous barriers unclogged.
Ankles tremble between rocky remains.
Exposed to his universe.
Viewed by packs of excavators
Fixated on another radical soldier
Standing in formation
Stagnant in efforts to run.

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