There may be a noise in my head but I swear that I’m listening
It intrudes with its ringing and boasts 'I'm not letting go easily'

Is this a game, a test of endurance, finesse?
When does it end, when I feel it? Or when it’s yanked from my chest?
Does nature reward this endurance? It remains my best guess
Persistence for sake of resisting this entropic mess

But here I am, I am here, that I am, that I am
I am that, that I am that I’m here
Oh I am, am I? Here? Yes I am

A wandering lust for a brilliant dusk of realized sensation
A satisfactory movement of astral acknowledgement-ation
A fiending for a further soared wanton curiosity
A wanting for a needing more of possible experience seen

Rays of light shine forth, and they’re lancing our wills into brilliant crystals
Our thoughts are blown right through the screens upon their imaged stills