heretic:

Aether charged.

The sky is written in unfamiliar constellations.

My heart burns like the July sun.

A promise hung in the air like haze.

Brought to life of wire and glass,

truly a modern horror.

If only Prometheus had known.

The flame snuffed.

Carved runes in your skin.

Made into a starscape.

A road map of self deceit.

The river grass was soft.

You could smell the running water,

could almost feel it lick your ankles.

As the floor falls out beneath you.

A heretic to the end.

Wearing a crown of flowers.

Pledged piety to an empty throne,

your lot thrown in with fools.

The sleepers mind is burdened with heavy dreams.

Layer after layer,

the skin pulls back.

Behold the machinery beneath.

I built an edifice of lies.

King of nothing.

A heap of bones.

A dying cider,

carried on the wind.