The Hollow
CHARLIE MOHN
CHARLIE MOHN
I
-Shape in August Eyes-
-Shape in August Eyes-
Mr. Prophet steps center stage
christmas lights at his back,
he preaches and preaches
a beast born lust for a godless race.
The crowd is entranced and alive,
Be calm my animals…
He is tattooed with the mark of the beast
no, beat. Gotcha’ covered
take two steps and stand up
everyone can dance
just not to the tune
of a proxy religion
again and again.
Over and under
take a turn and let the lights blow
start up the projector
a simulation of the strange
circus tents and pet projects,
is this how the world will end?
Observe, take a minute and bathe in galaxy light.
Mr. Prophet leaves stage right.
He is shot moments after,
A false shepherd for the devil
left for radioactive decay and rust
a crunch against cold concrete.
Broken windows; glass rain.
“Let me tell you a story.
One before the leaves fell from the bone trees.
christmas lights at his back,
he preaches and preaches
a beast born lust for a godless race.
The crowd is entranced and alive,
Be calm my animals…
He is tattooed with the mark of the beast
no, beat. Gotcha’ covered
take two steps and stand up
everyone can dance
just not to the tune
of a proxy religion
again and again.
Over and under
take a turn and let the lights blow
start up the projector
a simulation of the strange
circus tents and pet projects,
is this how the world will end?
Observe, take a minute and bathe in galaxy light.
Mr. Prophet leaves stage right.
He is shot moments after,
A false shepherd for the devil
left for radioactive decay and rust
a crunch against cold concrete.
Broken windows; glass rain.
“Let me tell you a story.
One before the leaves fell from the bone trees.
II
-My Brother's Story-
-My Brother's Story-
Lovely is the world.
Solemn and vivid against summer
giants of a darker color
a machine built by the devil himself.
Clang and tick a Clockwork Cleric,
running just like the Prophet.
You know, the one who smelled of stardust;
genderless and sublime.
Of course, this story could be a lie
one buried so deep
that even the strongest can’t uncover the truth.
For one so young, your eyes still have color,
you’re not like them.
Who? The cleric, the prophet,
Those who lead others astray
a higher providence behind locked gates.
Drink and drink some more
who knows maybe one day
this tune will change and you’ll grow up.
A titan among men.
Fall back and sleep.
Ignore the vile amber of the sky
melting melting, a horrendous machination of man
and you’ll be just your own.
Ash stained red
Extinction as colored leaves
cleansed by atomic blue.
the saints expiration chimes in a tune to the nuclear jazz.”
Solemn and vivid against summer
giants of a darker color
a machine built by the devil himself.
Clang and tick a Clockwork Cleric,
running just like the Prophet.
You know, the one who smelled of stardust;
genderless and sublime.
Of course, this story could be a lie
one buried so deep
that even the strongest can’t uncover the truth.
For one so young, your eyes still have color,
you’re not like them.
Who? The cleric, the prophet,
Those who lead others astray
a higher providence behind locked gates.
Drink and drink some more
who knows maybe one day
this tune will change and you’ll grow up.
A titan among men.
Fall back and sleep.
Ignore the vile amber of the sky
melting melting, a horrendous machination of man
and you’ll be just your own.
Ash stained red
Extinction as colored leaves
cleansed by atomic blue.
the saints expiration chimes in a tune to the nuclear jazz.”
III
-Tick-
-Tick-
I can count to three,
but so can they, who? Everyone else.
Tell a story, a cold one, one that kills
freezes and might even burn.
I have old dreams; they don’t speak. Locked away.
One might even have a key.
An abstract, an opening. The grand design,
With a blueprint, the finite world might become clear.
Upside down and all around
Run, run faster then. Stop.
Tell yourself it will be okay,
your eyes can lie when they want.
Existence is driven by the individual.
Your world, my world, could be a vast expanse apart.
Side by side
not afraid to be alone.
All of this is laughable, just a solid barrier.
Lock the door and build the wall in your mind
try not to talk about life, just ignore
the purposeful contempt of self and youth.
Imagine yourself, a singular point
a blip, a period in the story.
Now,
count to three.
One
Two
Three
.
“Somewhere in the starry night,
a being is born, youthful and blind.
wings not yet fit for flight,
every breath a season, every movement a calamity.”
but so can they, who? Everyone else.
Tell a story, a cold one, one that kills
freezes and might even burn.
I have old dreams; they don’t speak. Locked away.
One might even have a key.
An abstract, an opening. The grand design,
With a blueprint, the finite world might become clear.
Upside down and all around
Run, run faster then. Stop.
Tell yourself it will be okay,
your eyes can lie when they want.
Existence is driven by the individual.
Your world, my world, could be a vast expanse apart.
Side by side
not afraid to be alone.
All of this is laughable, just a solid barrier.
Lock the door and build the wall in your mind
try not to talk about life, just ignore
the purposeful contempt of self and youth.
Imagine yourself, a singular point
a blip, a period in the story.
Now,
count to three.
One
Two
Three
.
“Somewhere in the starry night,
a being is born, youthful and blind.
wings not yet fit for flight,
every breath a season, every movement a calamity.”
IV
-The Concrete Expanse-
-The Concrete Expanse-
Miles above, down below through the endless
Infinite city, carving into the blue.
Broken pipes, smell the paint, lead, hints of mustard gas.
A kaleidoscope of windows. An abstract of you.
I can cheat, lie, even steal
Break, change, kill, please. Stop me.
I’ve grown too much. Seen too little.
A blurred shape of the man in my head.
Too much sleep, not enough caffeine.
All I’ve got for cash, a crumpled two dollar bill.
I exist as the neon night shift.
I will capture you alive, watch you struggle in Lucy’s fire.
Some call me a reaper; still others
call me human, a knight who stole gods lucid dead eyes.
A flawed gradient of indigo. I’m talking about the sky right?
Paint those opalescent eyes.
A love letter to you, the ones who still walk the earth,
the ones clouded in night. A life bound and broken,
I am the judge; my will a city, an endless giant
that looms into the sky. I was born of gods
The first child bound to the human world, a colossus
disguised in the shadow of buildings. This story is done.
Out of ink. The hounds of heaven
come to consume. A mechanical titan to combat god.
Ash stained red.
Sapphire eyes.
A creature born of calamity.
Dies, dies, dead. Gone.
Infinite city, carving into the blue.
Broken pipes, smell the paint, lead, hints of mustard gas.
A kaleidoscope of windows. An abstract of you.
I can cheat, lie, even steal
Break, change, kill, please. Stop me.
I’ve grown too much. Seen too little.
A blurred shape of the man in my head.
Too much sleep, not enough caffeine.
All I’ve got for cash, a crumpled two dollar bill.
I exist as the neon night shift.
I will capture you alive, watch you struggle in Lucy’s fire.
Some call me a reaper; still others
call me human, a knight who stole gods lucid dead eyes.
A flawed gradient of indigo. I’m talking about the sky right?
Paint those opalescent eyes.
A love letter to you, the ones who still walk the earth,
the ones clouded in night. A life bound and broken,
I am the judge; my will a city, an endless giant
that looms into the sky. I was born of gods
The first child bound to the human world, a colossus
disguised in the shadow of buildings. This story is done.
Out of ink. The hounds of heaven
come to consume. A mechanical titan to combat god.
Ash stained red.
Sapphire eyes.
A creature born of calamity.
Dies, dies, dead. Gone.