hauntology-antaka - SCP Foundation

The world has sunk into the sea, and the sea has receded. Then where is the world? Should it not be at the bottom of those dried pits?

Flax

The truth does exist! He was unquestionably misled. Doubting, that being a varroa, is inherently evil; allow fate to take its course! Consider the universe to have an impact. Worst of all, the fact that state passed… but We present because of demons.

It was all gone forever

Like it was there — never.

We lost it all in the fire

And found no-one left to inspire.

No mantras or slogans could've saved what was left

And with no one to speak them, clawed away with heft.

The rubble laid bare, so old

The fire had long grown so cold.

You side-eyed the last rites

And whimpered a goodnight.

Standing aside from who was left

With no one to speak to, clawed away with heft.

The feeling

returns.

When you awoke

You found yourself alone.

When you spoke

It came in hushed tones.

Movement some ways

Away.

Moments pass into a

Day.

Night light, night light

Burning bright.

Twilight, twilight

Into night.

The feeling

returns.

Crawling out from rubble

Born into trouble.

The iron tomb is cold like

your mother's womb.

Ice cold tourniquet

will keep you quiet.

Black mold bums did it

Living wages plummet.

Walking around the factory floor

Looking for an exit door.

Glancing up at catwalk rails

Glycerin collecting under your nails.

The feeling

returns.

The last rites provided

Had become too divided.

Split between the last thirty seven,

Lost were the last gates to Heaven.

Money was God, and to Him you cried

But there was no stirring when the institute died.

Broadcast your coordinates: Save us, please

Televised, the leachates, the pressure squeeze.

So you drifted off to sea to find your sleep

And brought you urchins and fish to eat.

Rod in one hand, net in the other

You saw in the f-sh, the Holy Mother.

The feeling

returns.

First the tide rushes in

And pushes up the mountain.

Second fiddle, fish's fin

Touching up the fountain.

The excavation can begin

Once it's brought back in.

The spell is sinking all the tin

And the crew is growing thin.

Merrily aboard now, wastrels

Verily, this is what's been paid for.

Verily, this is delayed Hell

Merrily, it sinks and they stand still.

The feeling

returns.

Before the final departure to the waves

The aperture opened to a hidden place.

A collection of silicon rooms surround a tomb

Deep and cold, archived, like a discarded womb.

Symbols are mounted on every wall

And there is no light at all.

Glassy, black, skeletal frame

The body has changed in many ways.

A placard sits across a chair

But the words cannot be transcribed here.

The institute is older than we know

But you will find out, deep below.

The feeling

returns.

I have started to detach myself from Nature, discard all the implications and beliefs that We once held, and if there is anything related to the laws of attraction, the fundamental sciences are the basis; universally accepted to establish a concrete foundation!