I decide what comes in and what goes out.
I decide how much of myself I let you know about.
I decide whether you meet the mask or the man.
It's getting hard for me to see the truth myself ~ After I have partitioned my soul into so many thousands of pieces and rationed them out like party favors amongst the ghosts of night. Some smiled ~ while others frowned. They were my angels and my devils too ~ But all I've ever had are my precious scars between me and you. They've watched a teardrop falling from my eyes ~ Whispering to me that I'm only perfect when I cry. Even in moments of clarity ~ my peers attack with accusations of dishonesty because of the many masks of Mercury. I am the slippery faceless fog that makes you sense only the WORST becasue you've never been quite able to catch me in a photograph ~ and this equates to my loneliness. But unlike my vampire brothers ~ I see a reflection every morning.. and the sun does not burn my flesh ~ although it irratates and does feel unnatural. My splintered psyche is however lost in the realms of the undead.. and this coffin bound orchestra play on instruments which have been strung with the fibers of my mind. And the skeletons dance ~ They have no voice or complaint. All it takes is a "choice" ~ and the party begins to "die" down ~ I will not serve you blood draining fools and give you life. I'm tired of telling stories with this ghost-voice of mine.. I've lived a lich's existence ~ and now I am only able to whisper frozen sonnets in homage of a life I can barely remember. An immortal living a mortal's life ~ I can only see madness in these eyes ~ praying for a remembrance of what it is like to die. Maybe tonight I'll be Houdini ~ Gonna kill my shadow ~ penetrate this sanctum.
“…on account of the nimble motion of his versatile intelligence. And since man is born naked, defenseless, in need of everything, he obtains all of these things for himself by his own industry-which is a property of Mercury.”
- Marsilio Ficino, Three Books on Life, Book III, Chapter II