laughter as a funhouse mirror
the madness in me recognizes the madness in you.
fucked up world,
reflecting it and each other in
sound and syllable
praise to the God of the apocalypse,
the God of poverty
vocal chorded scorch-earth happy
I know you in the conflagration
(my first friend in the asylum)
take away my power until I kick you in the
till I leave hand shaped bruises we exclaim over tomorrow
and on the third day the sun created himself created the moon created herself
dancing in the pitch dark
wet paint colorless
illusions and feints
this is not soft intimacy
not when I can see your teeth
Lower myself into this bed like a coffin, don’t wanna come up for air until I’m resurrected. Wish I could burn this whole universe to the ground.
I lived in a universe where everything made sense. Where everything was right. Turn a corner and I’m flung into this… this plague of apathy, despondency, futility.
Wish I could just stay in that universe. It’s a good one. Can’t hold down a job there but it matters zero to me.
All this shit that doesn’t matter. I’m just a fancy ape working 16 hour shifts.
How does that make any sense at all?
I keep having to rebuild my life.
Stack my tower all the way to heaven, stare God in the face until Crash Glorious.