An epistle of deranged truths scathing the person-cell with effervescent neuroses, claims all creation sacrificed on alters of glass screens and pottery psalms as collateral damage for a crude cause for survival.
Only a dirge fumbled like cursed slogans would hold their names unforgotten, like burnt fragments stuck on chimney walls with ashen bones of discarded experiments of this existence.
And as life is but an experiment, one wonders whose observance and skill records these anomalies of castaways from an abandoned heaven?
Remnants of dissidence are sizzling with acid burning stomachs, and all frivolities of individualism are shattering on floors as violence is roomed with rogues.
Mouths of children are dried by screams, mothers watch with clotted lids as fathers piss gold and blood after binges for sorry numbness.
After game play with gun-trotting avatars, siblings close in on one another with bread knives and mirror shards.
Stepparents sing holographic tutorials from digital nursery encampments, as static and baby noise breathes a ravenous draft on a hung-over mankind’s façade.
Yet another bout of fists and terror will ring across the night silence, as the rerun of horrors slants with the setting sun over a locked down platoon of dying combatants, and victims.
Foul drains will let off their steam over the township, with thick smog and colorful giggles before we face secret rooms where many will wish tomorrow away, with all decadence of those flourishing through the misery of others.
But, the sun will rise over Armageddon for many a cold corpse, dread and hunger pumping air and resolve to fight yet again.
And so will this spurious dream collapse, gain footing and defenestrate into an abyss of lost things; only to be found and dusted off immaculately for new dreams.
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