Faithless Folly from Blazing Revelations by Dominic Sanderson

Those who fall short of invention
Must seek an alternate intimate
Grappling and clawing and clicking
Between reason and flights of fancy
Under the pale dormant canvas
An abnormal blotting that simmers
Swirling and twirling and animate
A blue film of algae disfiguring

Faith, fair thee well
A passive malevolence
Devoid of passion and drive
It satiates and complies
I sold my soul in a flailing rush of panicked fright
The payoff is a disembodied, shining, perfect mind
Free me

Hail the deity
A tangled flurry of wire
Crimson, jagged and charged
Reaches for the mind's eye
Competing voices leap out in a daze of black and white
The crumbling walls of self-assurance mark my furrowed plight
Woe is me

Wallowing and whimpering and slobbering in a bottomless heap of discarded gestations, breaking the ground but without the innovation or standing ovation. The companion over there continues to glare and wear its friendly facade, all the while spying and collecting and collating and alerting and encouraging the forces within to abandon their cyclical search for a tangible modicum of inventiveness, as dependence rears its ugly head in the form of insistent screams

Hush, the villain sleeps
His veins are dry and the moon now glares irreverently
As a forlorn twitch sparks a fragrant chance of humanity
But now he wakes

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