Grasping at Straws (Vein I: Varying States of Decay)
This denial is the only thing steady enough to hold onto. Close, quickest to reach, keeping safe and the same. But only shreds remain. This shroud is tearing, slipping through these fingers. Aching hands burn too frozen to release this. They won't tighten. They can't hold onto these lies anymore. Now offered only fleeting glimpses of the once impenetrable barrier- a shield against this truth, torn apart by mistakes ignored. This denial is now no longer strong enough to hold onto. It drifts away with all that was truth before this fall. These illusions are tearing themselves apart, but are only essential to themselves. This hell, this is borne from these facades. They are borne from us.
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