Napoleon Death Mask

Put on my Napoleon Death Mask

Mass grave of personalities I switch between 

                    Could be..

"A bunch of things in the making"  

Part Three of "Faust" trade my soul

For a long lost Hitchcock scene

A distant dream when I had a future etched

Misplaced mania, tier list was inconclusive when I got a perfect score on the Rorschach test 

I'm a "poor mans Leonard Cohen"

Generation silence, unknown as it stands  

Spray luminol on my mood and fall into a trance, a loop of circumstance

Circumference made of stained glass, watch time lapse, you're a grain of sand that passes through the hours of endless silence contained behind your stairwell visions, eyes like innovators that dedicated life to perfecting deadpan 

Come with me to the tomb

The body, soul, the bones where history sits collecting unanswered questions like dust

Everything begins as dead skin

Once and for all it will be exhumed 

The fragments of fractured skulls, carcass expells a napalm musk 

Archaic concepts hault monologues and haunt dialogue 

Even with the slightest mention of what we all become

Incendiary speech, thermite verbs that strike against the machine to create heat, eternity turns to energy 

Memories ignite like a test demolition to do away with any and all forms of empathy

Sympathy is a niche, a novelty, a figment of a post apocalyptic genre 

The surface stained with paint so thick it traps a timeframe 

Centuries of mantras meant to prosper 

Instead the focus shifts, the mind wanders through lore inhabited by monsters trading faces with those same characters developed to scare away the horror conjured 

Ghosts are lined up as pallbearers, one of them recites the eulogy, one performs an elegy, together they build the narrative

The Death Mask Portrait 

Sits on The Devil's mantle

It's your turn to tell the story now

Crack the surface of my face and draw a composite sketch

A series of levels explored through the stairwell in my skin 

Put on my Napoleon Death Mask

A complex in my genetics

Interwoven story threads 

Connect and adapt to the narrative of the current premise

Do memories happen the way we remember?

Dismember the novelty of hope

The syndrome has no constant set of symptoms

It requires whatever it takes to cope