Repressed anger soon turns to maniacal laughter.

Sometimes there are no screams loud enough to match the ones inside my head.

Kold

The Cryptic passage that shows you bliss,  the trip of trips you could not miss.
 the body disappears in an electric sea
Every thought you thought you had or ego held
Is turned on its head the preconceptions bent and shaped
It is comforting and silently killing pains
The cold white crystals cut nasal membranes
The crackling of freezing air and rattling bones
The dark passage,  the dying walk of the Shaman
I have caught glimpses of the great beyond
buried beneath the frozen wasteland
but it has etched death into my face

I have been given a glimpse through the eye of God
but a chilling gaze into the eye of the devil
The unforeseen orchestra behind cold moonlit sheets
Encoding the Rhythm of my last breathes
Stolen time is weaved into the present
where a person could walk a labyrinth curled up inside a bed
where it seems eons have passed flying in the sun
When asleep in the dark
What does it cost to overcome a material experience?
A material existence,  and Everything else. . . . . . . .