Thieves, thieves.
Christ are we petty.

Could not have imagined
such a death
Such a short-sited
venomous slip of the mind
such a death-toll...
so unpredicted-ably sad to see
            A mighty species
Die.

That's the fate of the fate-less, I guess
Our gods were a faceless
Mass
of derangement
Massive enough to take us to space.
What we've plucked from out of our souls
We can never replace

Such as it is, we have no chance
Put to death.
****** and detached.
That's how it ends
--surrounded.

We write out
these sorrows
that aren't really sorrows
and
Pin the tasteless love to our chests

Oratorical ****-hoarding
Trade-card victims
with no actual dignity left.

How embarrassing..
the glory of man-kind
To face a demise,
so mundane.

Forsaken by lies.


Our souls have been neutered and
Turned into tools for
Violently-popular
Prostitution-alized fools

Love for the luscious
the rush of the snarling
Hysterical rousings of
Tumultuous twerps.

This is the way that history ends.

Resting in our dreams.