Searching for Control in the Avalanche 

I’ve fallen to the hush, as I bleed in the swaddle of distortion, 

Reaching for control, but I’m held back by panic 

Filling my lungs, having Chaos sniff for my scent,

The depths growing as I choke on the cold surrounding me,

The bitter taste engraving itself, on the back of my throat, 

A never ending climb out, prolonged by my crippled

Sight, caught in a violent haze that furthers my damnation 

That is comprised of my most vindictive demons, 

Taunting me in the avalanche, ripping out my voice

With their molten silver talons, dredging up the darkness,

 I’ve been through it all, the battered and bruised victim

Of anarchy in my own halls, shrinking atop of me,

As I fall asleep in that hush over a rat’s nest, nibbling 

At my control, down to the bone, now open to infestation,

Turning my harmony into pandemonium, I see doom

Climbing over the horizon, reaching for my grave,

Creaking is the casket as it opens, letting in mayhem, 

For even in the hush, it is Chaos who sets the stage, 

For Sanity’s gates, have been distorted. 

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