To nights of brotherhood in the ruins. Pacing the pristine streets of the ruins to soon be. The waves of heaving disgust. Hopeful hate for bliss silence. Beneath the plasticized façade is a fabric torn to pieces.
Hovering over the city of tents like skylines of clothespins. Underwear of rare vintage soaking in the sun. Drying trying to be clean in the sun’s bliss. The crickets and locusts took the night off. The bars only get confused in regards to their roles in the dice roll of a life. I have no desire to learn how to play craps. Bullshit filling ships in the blackened forests where we will always be kings. Kings in rags with a kingdom everywhere his eyes lay their gaze. The myth of the whole civilization in a boat just wandering the seas wondering what the fuck happen to all the glorious imperial trappings they once had. The otters mock them. The seals offer up guffaws. As a whole civilization is reduced to a few boats sailing everywhere. Just ekeing by.
I cannot even explain the speed at which I was attacked and how I wanted to join it or melt into it. To satisfy all urges to die and be confused over and over again. To have just a lil bit of self respect at the end of the day. The plan of action could be something stolen from the playbook of lions or any other whacky predator
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