promises of plight have manifested into a lump of organic humanity

left to desire the unattainable

unconsciousness as a lifestyle choice

failure.. as a scapegoat
indignity extolled as that's all that remains

inseparable in infinity
with ties to the greatest depredation

consumed, absorbed, excreted
as allegiances contorted to bring pity upon oneself

life as a conscience being
cursed with knowledge
and not blissfully ignorant

what to do as nothing matters
drunkenly stumbling as a fulfilling weekend

passions for unintended byproducts
as we all turn to dust so fuck it

fucking cloud of filth
with no intuitive initiations to feast upon
only the cold the sweating the fuck it all
it can exist only through experience
Even if not being pursued it hunts you
just lingering in the shadows
waiting for friendship(sic)

Initial contact is not at all unpleasant
sedating and satisfying quickly turning into
a self fulfilling prophecy

we cant,

so we won't.