DISEASE

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death is disease without cure very good, afflicts all men.

some treasure is golden. nickel-plate possessions to own
all i crave is utter silence for a minute or so

lines like this don't get enough love but they have the most impact, that blunt contrast and the association of not just silence, but utter silence, like humanity has the urge for annihilation, very freudian yet appeals to the old man sensibilities in me

the doorway showed itself within the bark of a tree
so i stripped the nearest branch and started carving a key

I'd like to see why people like this line. I think it's great. But I attach trees to youthful imagination, our greatest escape from mortality since the world is so alive and new and wondrous as a child. This encapsulated that sense of wonder and imagination.

to where the world was thinner. where the portals were guarded
by phantoms of the faraway. long forced into darkness
watched a man die and put a torch to his carcass
as it burned i felt a bitter sense of mortal catharsis

thinner world of adulthood? thats what methinks at least. the bitter catharsis hearkens back to the freudian thought that we fling ourselves towards death, which often yields moments that make us feel most alive. CRAZY TO BE HUMAN

nobody moves, nobody's saved. nobody leaves
we're rotary, wheel spokes who serve the flow of the beams
smell the disease. that old aroma. aromatic, it breathes
you don't have to understand. i'd rather have you believe

there's an existential note of string theory in that first couplet imo. like when you break us down into our most indivisible parts, what you get is no different than any other matter. We're just here, gyrating alongside the rest of existence, for purposes we don't really know - what they are, or whether or not they exist. but that's why we believe instead of understand, because it's the only honest option we have. belief is like the adult version of imagination (see: tree couplet), only stained with the knowledge of our mortality.

very dope