Every story has an end. Every body has a skeleton.
Always excess and worshiping idols which give nothing in return for your
devotion to THE PLAN
and to THE TRUTH carved into the mirror
and good-riddance-don't-you-dare-ever-come-back
to your filth and sin.
And that's when it took you three quarters of an hour to eat half an apple.
(Then things started to get even more crazy)
People called and called your name but the noise was too confusing and
you had forgotten how to listen.
So instead you opened your veins in a blurry haze of
loneliness and the hope of an answer
as to why the light seemed so bright and narcotic
through paper skin and self-conscious eyes.
And you murmured softly about the futility or existence
and how sad and beautiful the burning sky looked
the night you forgot how to breathe.
devotion to THE PLAN
and to THE TRUTH carved into the mirror
and good-riddance-don't-you-dare-ever-come-back
to your filth and sin.
And that's when it took you three quarters of an hour to eat half an apple.
(Then things started to get even more crazy)
People called and called your name but the noise was too confusing and
you had forgotten how to listen.
So instead you opened your veins in a blurry haze of
loneliness and the hope of an answer
as to why the light seemed so bright and narcotic
through paper skin and self-conscious eyes.
And you murmured softly about the futility or existence
and how sad and beautiful the burning sky looked
the night you forgot how to breathe.