another nihilistic overture,
for the impending hedonism
a callous cacophony
looks to be rather innocuous,
a brazen haze
of a lifestyle,
every night
a bohemian escapade,
thought we came far away
past life abandoned
that felt austere
yet salubrious,
this air reeks of dystopia
such a rootless feeling
keeps me riding
the nomadic hound,
a desolate heart
in a victorian home,
all around I see
empty eyes
and wretched souls,
need a shining light
for the start of something beautiful,
before the world crumbles down
fueled by fattening greed,
trees fall to the hatchet
realizing a dismal trepidation,
the fear of a blank planet.