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Blood on the Rung

from Prone Burial by Void Dancer

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lyrics

A fear of height serves a constant reminder: how far your flaws can fall. Fear of success keeps you from reaching for it.
Embrace your time, waste your life waiting in vertical lines
just to climb and gain nothing of value.
High contrast, low exposure.
Undernourished and under restraint
as we climb then decline just to end up in the same place.
A constant state of crisis.
The altitude is sickening, we push on.
With heels to finger every rung.
Never looking down because the guilty learn not to feel guilty for the ones they walk upon.
One step upward beckons voices from the bottom they are
pleading, taunting, haunting.
Your sight of mind is blind, you never look three steps away.
No victory to celebrate, ascend.
Cynics and climbers to the overcrowded middle.
Loathe yourself as much as I loathe those above.
Constant state of crisis: drawn, quartered, pushed and pulled.
Noose around achieving necks, bloodletting of the pure.
I’ve seen red stains on the top rung.
The altitude is sickening.
I’ve seen enough so I let go.

credits

from Prone Burial, released April 22, 2022

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Void Dancer Seattle, Washington

deprivating progressive death

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