Fingers worked to the bone
drip blood onto the work they are crafting.
He slaves here alone,
but to the rest of the world is acting;
painting his life as one of absurd peaks
and bottomless, dark troughs;
he makes tumours out of modern migraines;
emphysema out of ordinary coughs.
"Play the part or it will play you."
The life of the private celebrity.
Do not wish for attention, I pray you,
for it holds within it no tortured sincerity.
Instead, it holds a hollow hatred
for everything you never did become;
And then your parade fades
and becomes your kingdom come.
There is no sweet swan song
to they who have fallen from the light.
No cry, no gasp, no bell, no gong.
Just like the day, they are consumed by the night.
It’s silent creeping, or it’s sudden fall
all but chokes them dead.
Then it ***** them where they lay.
Mouth gagged, legs willingly spread.
Private People Should Not Seek Her Attention.
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 2:18 PM UTC
Fingers worked to the bone
drip blood onto the work they are crafting.
He slaves here alone,
but to the rest of the world is acting;
painting his life as one of absurd peaks
and bottomless, dark troughs;
he makes tumours out of modern migraines;
emphysema out of ordinary coughs.
"Play the part or it will play you."
The life of the private celebrity.
Do not wish for attention, I pray you,
for it holds within it no tortured sincerity.
Instead, it holds a hollow hatred
for everything you never did become;
And then your parade fades
and becomes your kingdom come.
There is no sweet swan song
to they who have fallen from the light.
No cry, no gasp, no bell, no gong.
Just like the day, they are consumed by the night.
It’s silent creeping, or it’s sudden fall
all but chokes them dead.
Then it ***** them where they lay.
Mouth gagged, legs willingly spread.
Private People Should Not Seek Her Attention.
