These dreary text posts standard action of repressed brain and ideology. Stifled. Stymied. Strangulated. Siphoning those resplendent, candid, altruistic tendencies. Dichotomy, schism. Hailing battle cries across this gorge. Dissociated personality. Not in clinical sense. Ha ha ha, laugh at your own depravity. Reconciliation, nigh impossible. Grasping, tearing, pulling down, into the depths between. Death will surely come. Regardless of implied action.
Murder out my Yaris® and send me off to Antarctica.
I wanna be the lowest satellite the world will never see.
\/\ and \ \ \/\/ \// Severed.
///// \ /
Sloughed off long before the flakes ever put a tick on screen—
fingers still twirlin’ right in front of their eyes all ‘phhhzzsss…’
in a spiralling gesture leaving them all bronze, bitter, and cold.
Cuz statues always stand in a self absorbed kinda way anyway.