Cellophane promises,
Transparent, whisper thin —
Wrap me in your best intentions,
Fragile as a second skin.

I love you,
You numb me,
Sedated in sync —
Alive in slow motion,
No longer able
To give a single shit.

A brand new melody over
A never changing beat.
Time shifts in tempos,
Never rhythms.
Break, repeat. Break, repeat.

The biggest curse of human times?
Entitlement, privilege, exploitation —
Born deadlocked into social classes
Built upon the shaky construct
Of yours and mine.

Upon shoulders of giants —
Carried, ignorant and crying,
Squabbling, fighting,
Until we are
Old enough to steal.

Not today, Satan,
But I'm oh so close,
So who knows —
Maybe tomorrow.
Not today, Satan,
Begone,
Just not too far,
For maybe tomorrow
I'll be yours.

Cherry picked verses,
The gospel of me.
Judge by the good book —
Not all of it,
Just the parts that match
The truths I choose to see.

There's no method to my madness,
Though there's mania to my moves —
Biting off more than I can chew
I spit and swallow,
Leaving chaos in my wake,
Whichever path I choose to follow.

Please hold
While we
Ignore you —
Avoiding *cough*
Your call is very important to us.

Dear consumer,
We don't care about you —
There's a reason that
The acronym for
Frequently asked questions
Sounds a whole lot like…

Traversing
Darkest brightsides —
My hell, my life,
My choice, my time.

Faulty wires,
Erroneous minds—
When it comes to
Wasting time,
A little faith
Goes a long way.

Solitary anti-dogma crusader,
Cockroached resistance leader.
Fate-denied, stigmatized,
Beat, belittled, shamed —
Unashamed, undefeated.

A romance not meant to be,
Aimed for the moon —
I grabbed on to its mavity,
Swung round, and let it ride.
Fuck it.
Let death bridge the divide.

Ritual endurance —
STFU, you amateur.
We're supposed to feel like shit.

Solemnly life endures
The rot of supremacy.

Clairvoyant? Not particularly.
And no, you're not predictable —
It's just that you and I are circling
The same damn drain.

A gift of dedicated time,
Of creativity, painstakingly
Perfected in the forge of passion —
Polished, priceless slices
Of an artist's soul and life,
Handed out, given feely.
But, yeah. Thank you
For that lazy ‘like’ in passing.

Fear, the anchor —
Dare.
Drift.
Discover.

Trauma
The lifeline,
The teacher,
The guide —
Leading away from
The pain we hide
In the darkest depths
Of our minds.