Silent Observation

Twist fire, how bright burn empty stars.

I suffocate in this fluorescent machine.

This amalgamation of violent peace.

Ravaged and secure I sit sidelined.

Placid and dormant,

A sycophantic observer of my homicide.

Lethargically dreaming, this void overflows;

Corrupting and wicked.

Burrow deeper; morbid curiosity creeps.

Rotting carcass licking life, expulsion from flesh.

Apathetic watcher of my own evisceration.

I huddle, clinging to this

Grand mastication of the soul.

This all consuming horde.

These devils with white wings, saviors of damnation.

Burn It All Down

Sometimes I wonder how I surround myself with these people. These sick sycophants who parade around like Godzilla in Tokyo. These goblins who wreak havoc and copulate destruction. I'm withering in this sunless environment, this dying flower. Diseased and full of decay.

Sometimes I think I have everything all wrong. I've misread this map, a convoluted conjecture as to my position and the one I am supposed to be in. This surreal bubble is all consuming and treacherous.

Perhaps I'm seeking validation in the wrong places. Or maybe I have stopped looking at all.