Insignificant chatter looms over my decaying ear.
The tantalizing haze floods the hidden floor boards,
the stained walls.
The prevarication is located in the detrimental couches.
The blissfulness of your ignorance feeds the self-inflicted smoke of their sensuous cigarettes.
We're all dead.
The instant gratification hovers over the greedy fingers as they dance across their contemplation of sanity.
The platonic conversationalists seek more than the lonesome intoxication.
And I, the flickering light caress the delicate chipped walls.
We're all dead.