The Comedown [VIII]

How long could this insightful illusion possibly remain?
Is this nirvana even remotely feasible to ascertain?
Why am I so weary? Why do I even pretend to implore?
How many times can one man forget the anguish he adores?
 
No being can sincerely state such extraordinary transcendence;
our insight only goes as far as an allusion to dissonance
One that merely reveals the futile inception of affliction;
Constructing the demeaning fortitude of vile attrition
 
This vessel to enlightenment is the same as any other;
Conjuring a spirit will only leave your will to smother
Just as the knowing of any faith is mere hallucination;
A malicious state of mind that writhes in fixation
 
Suppressing all earthly emotion through it's malevolent wraith;
Shedding all inner doubtfulness to parallel the warmth of faith!
Like Singing a melody without the prejudice of protruding eyes!
Or conversing with an assembly of reflections with no disguise!
 
Oh how these phrases proclaim such Sancta simplicitas!
And if I am he who is - what does that leave me as?
A foundation of flesh that hosts a gullible fool;
Thriving in exception as opposed to the rule!
 
The brew had peaked it's height and was entering the comedown;
Transforming my gleaming smile into a nihilistic frown
Depressing my virtue into a topic for their impish debate;
Is it possible that the truth we've uncovered is something you hate?
 
Or in a similar term - a knowledge you can't understand.
And, If what we ask is true; We'll have no choice but to disband
We've no use for an embodiment of weak character and will;
So, answer proudly or explain your fortune of ill
 
As much as I would love to continue forth with this high;
It would be little more than an instinctive lie
I'm sorry for all the time I've wasted with you all;
The comprehension I held for a moment has ceased to a crawl
 
I don't mean to take any merit from your success or glory;
But if I'm to stay here tonight it will be little but history
And, no achievement could come out of the addition of my tale
From the deliverance of my conception I've been set to fail
 
Any moment that I've felt some affirmation of my intelligence;
It has become misconstrued into an entanglement of remembrance
A procrastinating delusionist that can't seem to forget the past;
Endlessly opressing my outward impression into a sickly broadcast
 
For I can only profess my Elysium through a few simple thoughts!
Like a desperate longing for belonging that escapism had wrought
The only contentment I've ever known has simply been indifference;
A veiled acceptance of happiness that is portrayed with vehemence
 
Can you now see that this gathering has been doomed from the start?
For poets and prophets know naught but a deceptive art!
Enticing others with their own personal mantra, and presence;
To conclude this rehearsal I must commence with my absence