...
bloodshot moon, from a suns constant view
seeps anger into ocean blue
red cracks upon a pupils white dome

a rivalry with the bonds at Birth
now severed and inflamed
good riddance I could say, but waking from delirium
with a touch of stuffed air
suffocating again, it was nothing but a fantasy
so it would say, with a condescending grin
how much will I take
before I become waste, and return to form
hair, skin, bones, shadows, grave, dust
nothing
don’t give it too much thought
it’s what it wants

tones within a shadowed contempt
speaks without lungs and burns the rest
so much for the seeds that were meant to bloom
for in their visions of lusting power looms
claiming rubied seas from the saps of hanging fruits
had oceans swell at midnight
torn the fabric between eyes as to close the blinds
yet the screams echo in clicks and gazes
become waste, never forget
waiting for the boom or never ending heat
it’s all they’ve been waiting to see

hear waste, see waste, stay waste, be waste
birth waste, **** waste, grow waste, shrink waste
hate waste, pray waste
it’s all waste in this taste
it’s all waste in this taste