why.
what is the point of all this?
why do humans bother with such useless games
bother with pointless escapades
all we are is glorified beasts
******* between every feast

eat.****.eat.****.eat.****
****.eat.****.eat.
eat.****.
th­e food is rotten to those who hear
the buzzing of flies in rotting flesh
the stench of deep regrets
is sweet to those who forget

why.
what is the point of all this?
why do humans bother with such useless games
bother with pointless escapades
all we are is glorified beasts
half asleep

illusions of grandeur filling our brains
dreams as sweet as the buzzing of flies
why bother?
why?

dreams are fantasy.
nothing more.
what we want,
what would make hearts soar.
waiting for a window or door,
what pleases us to our very core
dreaming too long simply gives you bed sores.

why.
what is the point of all this?
why do humans bother with such useless games
bother with pointless escapades
all we are is glorified beasts

we exist for one simple thing.
babies.
again, again, and again.
All we are is gilded beasts
writhing in a lustful heap