"Fiction of a Futile Fruit"

Salt poured out beside the plate 
The torchlight that I needed was found under the desk 
Poster that the wall should've proudly exposed was torn apart by claw marks 

Three trees with dead bodies underneath 
No they were not hanged 
No they didn't kill themselves 
It is some sort of foretelling
Wicked beast dancing on the chest 
Repeated deja vu's 

Inception level pyscho-phenomena
You jump to that black river only to see you're not dead yet 
So the sea wasn't the thing that was dead 
But what that place embodies was greater than thinking allows 

Minus tempo 
Higher frequency 
Time rushes slowly 
Dilation 
Complexities 

Three different trees 
Strength, Virtue and Humility 
White Golden Green 
Windows of your room suddenly gets cleaned 

Waking up to know that it is time that did not heal 
Time needs healing 
Who will heal time ?
Patience is busy 
Lazy is working hard these days 
Burnout always gets left out 

Don't talk with those shadows 
They won't help you 
no! they are me 
Three heads talking to each other 
Neither listening to themselves 
Neither coming to a common ground 
Everyone's shouting intellect! intellect! 
Even he is not the King

*Invite Art* 
they said It will help 
Funnily enough he's the one most devastated with mediocrity 
Vagabond running from city to city 

Last whispering voice sighs and leaves 
Clocks starts telling time again 
3:43am 
They lose but someday they'll win 
Sages say light is darkness to the fools 
Salt was poured on that plate rightly for the first time 
And it tasted just as it should 
*Purposefully used*

~Saint