onemorepanic

It caved in as the new assortment became regularity, found self somewhere between contrived grays of distant, not carings and fuck the lot of you. Shambled messes amongst the cacophony. Days work themselves into mathematical formulas, this will do-then this, then hopefully amount to distilled, ashamed, alone patterns of excess tittering along the unstable. Countering calculations with formulas so wonderful to ingest. Ramifications of spotlight images, humanitarian gene splicd' the eyesore helmeted meat sauce into uneducated dream phantoms.

And then it found momentum. God himself will come down. Forgive me to you for that last paragraph. A moist thumb print to your forehead and all is dissolved.

Or maybe it will burn...
Hopefully it'll burn. Waging war with the panic mother. Grief the days, trembling thoughtless. The mascara and days past. The wounds that kept me company. To be so arrogant to command a mountainous shattering. The decades adrift and the experience hollow. A dedication to the lowest common denominator, a paltry existence in hideous checks and balances.. that i dispense and dispense and dispose. Chemical gave the spotlight, exit on my stage where i abide to the clubs rules.

Papa said never trust a man that don't drink, riots funneled out from the culture. We pissed spite in the ocean blue, the cerulean blood bath gave to drains. A dead eyed finger to the shattering. A tumultuous grievance towards the sky. We are alone this day. May we die this day. May the sore spots in our hearts tear open with better days, imminent days, the desperate malice in one self break off into terry cloth. Adorned by the few. That said hello to me in the hallway. That would be foolish enough to take to jogging in my footsteps. And find themselves at a crawl.