Thursday, October 14, 2010

apathy is a privelege, indifference is a disease

the thinnest hand they're wiring writhing sacrificially wilting under particled skies
its time the thinnest blood its flowing out deficient its streaming out
its drunken they're all drinking they're not thinking
there is nothing
sometimes there's laughter it feels like hiding its all in timing
one two three they are immaterial they are (they were) the dust
a film of ages the rawness of the rough cuts
they tore up through underground smokestacks crumbled in self disgust
in time this timeless essence
it wins
the urge to feel the blisters like youth they'll live length in days not years
they'll fight, they'll fight
they'll scream, i hear them
its like a miracle to hear someone believe
to hear someone resolve to leave
a life that's less like lifelike
dollhouses we play (pretend) we play like cruel children
on the other end
there's someone screaming
its wrenching up its clogging in
the pores of this self destruction, its what happens
we don't know ourselves
we stopped thinking
we started acting out a description from a pixelated god and we tried to play the leading role
choked on our own scars
of distraction
and relaxation
of plastic simplicities
and alienation
of exponential exponents tangling dwindling aspirations breathe

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