Part of the Hyper/Hypo album: https://suno.com/playlist/a70bd4f3-2973-4de5-9168-faabf6d9c6ad ============= There’s a stone I can’t walk around, an upright monument to every failure. Pressure makes mountains, but it only makes me crack. I press my hand against it, and it doesn’t move. They say we must imagine Sisyphus happy, but he wasn’t pushing an immovable stone just to prove he was alive. My monolith doesn’t roll; it waits. It judges. It remembers. The monolith makes no sound, not even the dignity of an echo, just the static of my own thoughts. A forgotten monument can still be rediscovered, but I'll be forgotten. I polish the surface, but all I see reflected back are failures wearing my face. Its weight hums through the ground, slowly swallowing everything it touches. Every plan I make collapses before the first step. I draw the optimal path, map the whole ritual, measure the distance, and then stand still, watching dust settle on the stone. Every push is the same dull scrape, a pitch that refuses to shift. Why struggle with an immovable thing when surrender feels easier? Why fight what does not care if I win or break? There are no victories here, only pressure, only the slow grinding of soft skin against hard stone. If Sisyphus found joy, I’ve misplaced mine; when it finally shifts it’s not a drop, not a release, just a quiet crack that ends everything.
